


Sugarless Milk Chocolate

by starrylitme



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Bitterness, Body Horror, Complicated Relationships, Corruption, Depression, Descent into Madness, Dissociation, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, Eye Trauma, Gen, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, Jealousy, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, No Mercy Route, No Romance, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Drama, Self-Destruction, Slow Build, Sorry Not Sorry, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 119,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m really tired, so... You win, kid. I give up.”<br/>And, as awful as it is, those words are liberating.<br/><br/>(In which Chara really needs a new method of making friends to murder with. Granted, this method they're going with might just work. Vaguely. Like, they have their moments at least. Circumstances are still pretty terrible, but it's still something.)</p><p>(Also known as "Wow isn't that story title cute. Yeah uh, this story isn't very cute in context.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. there once was a child who

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen this idea done a couple of times already but because I like wrecking my shit, I'm doing a long-fic version of it. It's going to be terrible and messy. It'll be great.
> 
> My Chara's a bit of a weirdo. I'm somewhat sorry.
> 
> I'd apologize to Sans too, but I'm giving him a ribbon later so it's all good. Even though it isn't. At all.

There once was a child who made a choice. There once was a child who felt many things.

Fear. Unease. Concern. A sense of dread.

But all of these overpowered by something that could only be determination.

The only certainty in the beginning was that, regardless of the ‘how’s or ‘why’s, that child had to move forward.

* * *

“It’s kill or be killed!” The shrill proclamation echoes throughout the underground. It’s an annoying sound. The laughter is worse and the smile it gives is grotesque. It could have been sickening. It could have been sad. They could have denied it or agreed with it.

Which was it?

Kill? Be Killed? Either? Neither? _~~But was neither possible— **no** —~~_

Back then, the only certainty was to move forward regardless. It was not certainty that made that first choice back then. It could have been concern. It could have been curiosity. They’re not certain which it was.

Which was it? Did it matter?

Oh. _Right_. It _didn’t_ , did it?

**> Kill**

* * *

There was a child with a special gift. Or was it a curse?

It was a gift.

Through the one certainty—through determination—there was something that this child could do that was truly incredible.

The ability to SAVE. The ability to RESET. The ability to DETERMINE the fates of those around them. Whether they lived or died. They decided those around them would die. Because they could. Because they had to.

They had to? _~~Was there really nothing else?~~_

They had to.

They were determined to. If nothing else, they had to move forward.

* * *

But. Once they reached the end, the only place to go was back to the beginning. And from then on, they went through it again and again and again and— _killing_ again and again and again and—

* * *

Again.

“Hmm. That look on your face...”

Sans looks them over. Their smile twitches. Sans gives them a wry, exhausted grin.

“You’re _really_ kind of a freak, aren’t ya?”

There is something that makes them perk up. It’s not the words—the words have been the same for who knows how long—but the way Sans _says_ them are different. The way he stresses out the ‘really’, the way he shakes his head and sighs so heavily it’s like there was nothing but weight on his already slumped shoulders... It’s different. Slightly different. Significantly different.

Sans, this time, doesn’t even start his speech before that eye flashes yellow and blue and with a swift motion of his hand, their body goes flying.

The surprise of it has them seeing stars, has their smile widen as they huff out a laugh. Sans just shakes his head again. Just sends those wretched blasters after them as they scramble out of harm’s way.

For the most part, they’re unscathed from that first barrage. It was just that surprising start that had got a hit in. Still, their _soul_ —their _heart_ had picked up the pace. It was something. It was _something_.

“Huh.” Sans muses and he looks like he’s about to say something but—he doesn’t. Just shuffles in place, just watches them carefully. He’s alert. He’s looking at them as though the very act were exhausting.

He sidesteps the swipe of their knife in beat with their pulse. They’re just as quick to dodge those bones.

It goes like this. This back-and-forth like a dance between partners who know one another so well that it’s practically instinctual to match the other’s movements with their own when the time comes. But Sans isn’t saying anything. Sans is quiet the entire time. Sans just is _watching_ them.

Sans isn’t as fast as he normally is when dodging, but his attacks stay the same. It shouldn’t make a difference. And yet.

“You, uh...” He does speak up after they swing at him for the fifteenth time. “You _really_ like swinging that thing around, huh?”

He really looks tired. More tired than before. Even the way he idly rocks on his heels suggests he’d like nothing more than to just sit down. Or lay down. Whichever.

The attentiveness of his gaze is fixated on their face. On their tacked on smile and empty eyes that are somehow resolutely looking back. They wonder what it is— _familiarity, fatigue, frustration_ —that has Sans falter. That has him sigh so, so heavily. They could hazard a guess.

“Question, kid.”

They immediately straighten up. He keeps staring at them, warily and wearily, and asks, “How many times have you been doing this?”

“I’m not sure.” They admit. “I’m not so good at keeping track of numbers. Why don’t you tell me? Hazard a guess. How many times do _you_ think it’s been?”

Sans’s stare narrows and that tense grin widens. Their own smile widens in return.

“If I had to...” he starts and then trails off, shrugging. “Somewhere over fifteen? Probably? Is that about right?”

They nod. “Certainly. Certainly somewhere _over_ fifteen.”

“Welp,” he groans, voice breaking into a mirthless chuckle like he’d been told a really wretched joke. “Aw, jeez. That explains it. Another question then, you little freak.”

They tilt their head to the side.

“Don’t you ever get bored? Or, ya know, tired for that matter?” There’s this bitter quality to the question. It’s almost like a scowl but Sans keeps on smiling it off. “Because, uh, as _knife_ as it is you keep wasting your time with me—you do know you could do literally anything else, right?”

“Like what?” they ask, blinking innocently. Sans huffs out a half-laugh.

“Like jump off another cliff, I guess? Or quit? Or maybe you should just go to sleep—isn’t it past your bedtime, kiddo?”

They couldn’t help it.

Chara burst out laughing.

“Oh, ooh, ouch. _Rude_.” Still giggling, shoulders quivering as they muffled their continuous laughter through their fingers. “For a skeleton, you’ve got one _sharp_ tongue, don’t you? But, of course, you’ve always been so, so **_sharp_** , Sans.” To emphasize the word, Chara taps the blade of their knife. Presses their finger hard enough into it to nearly draw blood. “I like that. I’ve always admired that about you.”

“Thanks, I guess. Means a lot. Even if it doesn’t.” Sans rubs at the back of his neck. Rubs at his temples too—he’s started to sweat, Chara noticed. “You didn’t answer my question. Or, uh, really tell me much of anything at all actually even though I went through the trouble of asking. You really are...a _curious_ piece of garbage aren’t you?”

_...curious, huh?_

Brown eyes blinked curiously. In the warm, golden light of the hall, they almost looked a curious shade of red. Sans looks towards one of the stain glass windows and if Chara had to guess, they supposed his stare was locked on the winged circle of the Delta Rune. Curiously, Sans was even standing in the center of the circle’s shadow, with the reflection of one of its wings before him.

 _Birds are singing._ Chara thinks, and they look past Sans to the double doors leading to the king’s throne room. _Flowers are blooming._

_On days like these, **kids like you** —_

...?

“It might be for the best if you just give it a break, kid.” Sans speaking nearly makes them flinch. Nearly. They wait with baited breath as he turns to give a wide grin that, while bathed in golden light, only serves to make the shadows under his eye sockets look so much darker. “That look on your face suggested that you’re just as tired of this as I am. Which, honestly? Pretty impressive.” He doesn’t look impressed at all. “It’s a beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

“Birds are singing.” Chara says blankly. “Flowers are blooming.”

“On days like these...” Sans goes on, and it almost sounds like a gentle urging. It’s just fatigue, isn’t it? “It’s a great time to just nap. Or rest. Or just...take it easy, I guess. So, uh, how about it?”

Chara blinks back at him. His grin widens. Those shadows look so, so dark.

“Let’s stop fighting. Let’s take a break instead. Sound good?”

Sans chuckles as they keep on staring. Slowly, but surely, Chara’s own smile falters. Just a bit. Just a little. They squeeze the handle of the knife and let it fall to their side, still keeping enough of a grip on it to keep it from falling and clattering from the floor. Sans, to his credit, keeps on grinning widely at them, rocking idly on his heels every now and then, posture hunching just a little at a time the longer he watched and waited for their response. Chara wondered just how clenched his mitted skeletal fists would be if Sans didn’t keep them buried in his pockets.

Chara was gripping the knife like a lifeline. They weren’t sure if, at this point, they could drop the weapon to let it clatter against the floor. Maybe at some point before they were able to let it go but—if that had ever been case, it clearly didn’t apply anymore.

But. In the very least, their feet were rooted to the floor. Because. If nothing else, this was new. This was different. Not _that_ new—not _that_ different—but it was something. And, more to that...

Sans was right.

They were so, _so_ tired of fighting him.

Maybe that was their fault. Maybe it was compulsion. Maybe it was a perverse sense of sentimentality. It didn’t really matter. It was all the same, wasn’t it? The same.

Still.

“I am tired.” Chara does admit, voice raised so that Sans hears. So that it echoes across the hall. They take a few strides forward, speaking in time with those resounding steps. “But I can’t stop killing, Sans. Even if I rest, I’ll just be up on my feet again, trotting along the same path over and over and... Well. I suspect you understand the feeling.”

“Eh, kinda.” Subtly, Sans leans away as they come closer but he doesn’t take a step back. There’s something sharp about his gaze at that moment, like it’s narrowing in on something but Chara isn’t sure what. Chara doesn’t really care to know. “So what’s your point? Should I be feeling sympathy? Empathy?” Suddenly it’s his smile that looks _sharp_. “Sorry, kid, but I’m not that nice. You should ask my brother instead.”

He still says it like it’s light-hearted advice. They take it as such.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him the next time then,” they say. “But let’s keep on track here. This track. I’m seriously tired of fighting you, Sans.”

He perks up almost immediately. “So you’re sparing me?”

“I could.” Chara responds. “I honestly want to. I want...”

_Something new. Something different. Something...something...something—_

“Sans...what do you say if...instead of trying to hurt each other...we help each other out?”

“Help.” Sans at least doesn’t repeat the word like a request. His tone is flat. “Are you _kidding_.”

They laugh, even though they’re not. “It sounds like a bad joke, doesn’t it? Kind of like your life, Sans.”

That gets him to still completely, posture completely rigid. The lights in his eyes are out now, but Chara doesn’t doubt he’s as attentive as ever.

“Knowing that no matter what you do that it’s going to be reset. Knowing that nothing matters at all—but still so desperate to cling to _something_... Even though it’s so easy for that _something_ to just fade away like _dust in the cold wind_.” Chara laughs. It’s bright. It’s cold. Sans is utterly still and despite the brightness, his lightless expression is in so much shadow. “Actually I... I may, perhaps, understand how that must feel. _Lonely_ , right? _Pointless_ , right? And so, so _dull_. But. Despite all that—you still fight me with everything you’ve got. Even though you know how worthless your efforts are, even though I’ve killed you over and over, you still refuse to pull your punches. If I didn’t know any _better_...!”

Giggle bursting from their lips, taking another step forward. “I’d think you felt something for this, Sans! For fighting me! For trying your damnest to kill me! For succeeding the many times you did! You may not remember—but I do. I recall **_perfectly_** the way you grin at me after killing me once, twice, thrice—over fifteen times in a row—and I know all too well what a fake smile looks like, you know.”

“Wow.” Sans whistled. It’s a little light. A little breathy. “An apparent _mind reader_ on top of a mass murderer. Well don’t you just got it _made_ , kid. I mean, I can’t say anything, since I have **_no idea_** what you’re even **_t a l k i n g a b o u t_** . . .”

“It really is problematic that you can’t remember.” Chara says all matter-of-fact. “So, I’ve been considering... I’ve never actually tested this before on anyone, of course, but I can’t think of a better experiment than with someone like you. See, my resets have the capability of wiping all memory from everyone and anyone that isn’t myself. You know this. I know this. But what if I found a way to make it so that someone else _does_ remember?”

Sans’s smile never looked less tacked on. But he seems to know where this is going. Good.

“Something like that...could be a real game-changer, don’t you think? Depending on who that person is and what they’re capable of. And aren’t you as sick of this game as I am? Aren’t you sick of this game repeating over and over again? Don’t you want it to stop—or to, at least, start with something **_new_**?”

_Something new. Something different. A new game. A different game. Even if it’s such a slight change. I think I..._

“I’d like that. I’d like for something like that. You can even say that I’m...determined to get that. Determined to fight for it for however long it takes.” Sans stares back with nothing but those _empty_ eye sockets as they smile in return, beaming and unyielding. “It’s not much. But it’s still something. And that’s enough for me, I think. And I think that it’s the same for you, as well. So, here’s a question, Sans.”

Sans doesn’t look like he wants to hear it. But he’s still listening. He’s listening even if he somehow looks ill.

“How about rather than having me as your hopeless final fight—you have me as your _partner_? Have you ever wondered what it’s like to utilize the powers I have? You could hurt whoever. You could kill whoever. And then after I reset, they’ll still smile at you like they’re your _pal_. No hard feelings. No repercussions. You could twist the neck of every last person in that bar one day and spend the repeat joking around like you did before and they’ll be laughing, laughing, laughing and you’ll be laughing, laughing, laughing because it’s just so _hilarious_.”

“You’ve got a seriously sick sense of humor, kid.” Sans said pointblank with a disgusted shake of his head. Even with that stiff smile, it’s clear he’s scowling. Dark blue magic flickers in his left eye for but a moment that they could have imagined. “Go to hell.”

“Aw, don’t be that way,” Chara’s laughter is weak and soft like they’re trying to be placating. Even showing him an empty palm. A pacifying gesture—and in their other hand, they’re also holding up the knife. “Won’t you at least think about it?”

After a beat of silence—a moment that could have been contemplation, Sans grins widely at them. The only bit of brightness in his smile—which is so much like Chara’s own but also its opposite, its foil—is that flash of blue in his eye.

“Alright then. Here’s what I think.” His hand pulls itself from his pocket. He chuckles lowly, and Chara feels the grip of their soul in that second it takes for them to see the flicker of yellow in that blue.

“Go to **h e l l**.”

By the time he was done slamming their body into the columns, windows, and ceilings— _mostly the columns, those hurt the most_ —Chara barely had time to blink before they saw the bones, each with the sharpened edge they saw whenever they looked down at their knife.

They didn’t live for much longer. Didn’t even see how Sans looked when they died. One of the bones skewered their eye, they’re sure. They got the point. They’re sure Sans would’ve laughed at that.

* * *

They’d try again though. But first they needed to test something. If they could indeed do what they wanted to do.

Because unlike Sans, Chara rather wouldn’t repeat the same dialogue boxes over and over, especially if they could help it. It’s all experimental anyway. They could reverse this choice at any time.

_~~But isn’t that what they thought about—~~ _

Wiping his memories again would be child’s play. They’re sure about it.

Besides.

Sans really looks at them differently next time. He’s still grinning but they see how he’s _really_ looking at them—how he stares and sees their brutally bloodied corpse.

“That look on your face...” Chara says. “You’ve never had to live with the memory of killing someone, have you? Don’t worry, Sans. You’ll get used to it. I’m alright now, see? It didn’t matter. Nothing ever matters.”

“Heh.” His stare hardens, his smile much, much colder. “Well, I was expecting to be surprised in some fashion, I guess. But knowing a little more about what you’re capable of—I’d be _really_ irresponsible if I let you have it your way. Sorry kid, definitely can’t afford to _allow_ that.”

“Ooh,” Chara whistled. “Would you say you’re determined, Sans?”

They laugh like they expect Sans to join in. He doesn’t.

“Come on,” they urge. “At least throw me a _bone_ here.”

Sans threw many bones. All aimed directly for their head. They weren’t sharp this time. But they still hurt a lot.

Their next death isn’t too bad, all things considered. They don’t mind. They’ll just try again and again and—

* * *

Again.

“That look on your face...” Chara says with a hum and tilt of their head. “You look annoyed.”

He also looked unamused. With a hint of unsettled. But that expression quickly smooths over as he chuckles, low and coldly, discreetly wiping his hand on his jacket’s pocket. Like it had gotten clammy or something—even though he didn’t bother removing the mitten.

“I was prepared to stand here for as long as it takes, kid,” he tells them matter-of-factly. But Chara thinks he’s trying to tell himself that too. “One of us is bound to get bored and I’m a _real_ patient guy.”

“Is that so?” Chara asks, blinking those wide red-brown eyes. “You may be patient—but how good would you say your perseverance is?”

Sans shrugs. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“There never was anything to lose.” They say. “Because once you realize that everything repeats—nothing really means anything anymore. Even a _plant_ can understand that much. You’re smarter than that—but you’re still standing ground that’s already been trampled a thousand times over. Even though you knew about the resets. But you didn’t _remember_ them—I guess _that’s_ the difference in your behavior to ours. Well, good thing I changed that, huh?”

“It doesn’t _change_ anything.” Sans retorts.

“Really? That look on your face suggested otherwise. But it’s okay.” Chara giggles, grin spreading sickeningly wide across their face, dimples accentuating their rosy cheeks. “I understand. It’s okay. It gets easier. The more you hurt, the easier it becomes to distance yourself. Isn’t that right?”

A flash of surprise across Sans’s features. Then he darkens completely and blue has never burned so bright.

“I’m really **_tired_** of listening to you talk, kid.”

“Hehe, okay,” They laugh as he kills them again and again and—

* * *

Again.

Chara thinks that remembering makes his hands shake the first few times. That it makes him hesitate for the first time when hurting them. That remembering really makes him think about the repercussions that come with killing someone.

He still kills them.

Again.

Chara may or may not be letting theirself die. After all, it doesn’t matter. After all, it’s quicker and more merciful than how they theirself would have done it. There’s nothing quite like being slammed so hard they see stars. Sans may not have had the zest Undyne did with her spears—but then again, he’s hardly as truly _heroic_ as she was. Hardly as _assured_ as Undyne.

Probably.

They die after losing their balance and falling onto the pathway of the blaster’s ray of raw, unbridled energy.

Again.

Chara can’t help but get thrills at imagining that weapon unleashed on the world at large. Of course, Sans’s damage output desperately needed an increase. His stats were just so _weak_.

But he still managed to kill them far more than anyone else.

Again.

And again.

And again and again and again and—

“Hey.” Chara starts just as they see that flash of blue in Sans’s eye. “I think your smile’s changed. I can’t tell if that’s euphoria or exhaustion.”

Sans stops dead in his tracks. His hand is still crinkling with flickers of blue magic, halfway between pulled from his pocket and held out in front of him. It’s curious how his mitten doesn’t burn. It’s good that he’s especially eager.

Especially since he waits just long enough for Chara to try and speak up again. The second they do, his hand jerks with the motion of sending them flying. But it’s a minor surprise. They manage to survive, even with a few close calls of that first turn.

“You’re enjoying yourself at least, right?” Chara asks, swinging at him. Sans is quick to skip out of their reach. “Can you imagine just completely giving into this? Won’t you consider it?”

Swipe. “Come on. Consider it.”

Jab. “Consider.”

Thrust. “Consider, consider, consider—”

Sans dodges it all with well-practiced ease.

Chara holds up the knife in both hands. They’re breathing a bit heavily but still looking at him so, so expectantly even behind tousled brown fringe.

“It’ll just be all the same otherwise.” They tell him. He’s still grinning, even tiredly even strained, and the edges of their own smile are starting to twitch, pull, and twitch some more. “It’s a cycle, see? It repeats and repeats with no regard to the people in it. Not even the players. It doesn’t matter who the players are, so why not introduce new ones? Come on, it’ll be fun. Just consider it.”

Sans blinks and then he laughs. It’s...a strange laugh. The kind of laugh like there’s something to laugh at—except that there isn’t. Everything and nothing is funny. He’s laughing like they did when Dad was sick. He shrugs it all off, like it’s just something unsubstantial—weightless. When, on the contrary, the atmosphere is nothing short of heavy.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, giving them a wink. “I’m definitely _considering_ feeling a bit sorrier for you. _Considering_ how **messed up** you are, kid.”

“Rude.” They say. Their voice raises. “I’m _not_ messed up. Everything else is messed _up_. Who said _I’m_ the messed up one? They’re lying. You’re lying. Lying is so rude, Sans. Don’t lie. I’m not _messed_ up. Everything else is **_messed up_**.”

“Dust all over your hands and clothes usually doesn’t make someone clean, kid.” Sans says, and he laughs this time like it’s just a bad joke. One he only laughs at in first place in order to be polite. “I won’t deny that everything right now is real messy too. You want my advice on how to help clean that up? Maybe just stay dead this time. I’ve worked as a janitor before.”

It’s something else. It’s really something else. It’s something else in just how _angry_ Sans has made them.

“Heh. Hehehe.” Their returning laughter is mirthless and bitter. The kind of laughter in place of screeching anger. “This time I’m going to _wipe_ that repugnant grin off your face, you **_rubbish_** bag of bones.”

“Hey now,” Sans says in mock offense. His eye is already aglow with blue. “Now that’s _rude as hell_ , bucko.”

Chara just laughs. Laughs like the sound viciously claws at their throat to get out.

Sans just barely avoids being gutted like a fish next turn, and he still somehow manages to kill them.

It calms them down the next go-around.

Even though they firmly stop playing nice from that point forward.

* * *

It’s finally at the point where they’re both exhausted. Chara’s struggling to push theirself up. They’re still holding onto the knife. That much, at least, is a relief to their aching limbs. But Chara can manage.

Sans, from what they can tell, is barely able to lift his arm for the time being. His smile is a cracking one, and he’s almost heaving as hard as they are, almost like he has lungs, too. Lungs that hurt with the struggle of keeping their worthless bodies alive.

But Chara manages. Even if it’s just in a sitting positon. Even if they have to cough up blood first.

“Don’t, _urgh_ , worry,” Sans’s voice is a bit of a surprise. His chuckle is weak and sounds like it hurts. “I’ll clean that up later.”

Chara manages to glare at him but just adjusts how they’re sitting into something more comfortable. Sans wipes off his teeth with his sleeve and he remains standing. Even as his shoulders raise and droop, his stance doesn’t waver.

Chara, impressed, moves to stand too. Sans’s left eye flickers blue-yellow and with that sharp familiar _ding_ , they’re back on their rear.

“So, uh, did I ever tell you about my special attack?” he asks. “Or should I just act like this is the first time regardless and be all like ‘here goes nothing’?”

“Do you want to?” they ask in return. He shakes his head, giving another weak titter.

“Nah, kid. I... I got nothing.”

“Okay.” Because it is. This is perfectly okay. They make it look like they’re sitting like the patient child waiting for the grownup’s attention. Or waiting for the bird out of the clock. “So it’s still your turn.”

“Yep.” Sans idly nods once with the confirmation, and the joints in his neck pop as his skull jerks. For a second, irritation flashes across his face. “Might as well get comfortable again. Since I don’t plan on ending it.”

“What about you?” Chara asks, tilting their head. They still taste blood, but it doesn’t bother them.

“Just think of me _standing guard_.” He stifles a laugh at his own joke. Then, in a duller tone, he adds, “Or you can just, uh, not care about that like how you didn’t when killing all those people. Don’t act like I’m _special_ , kid.”

“Well, that’s what _you_ think.” They say with a shrug of their shoulders. There’s double meaning to that, but they’d rather move on. “We both know, however, that this last ditch effort is as useless as it gets. By far your most blatant attempt to delay the inevitable. And yes, I have seen it before. I don’t need to tell you it’s ineffective to say the least.”

Sans simply chuckles. “Aw, really? And I had such _high hopes_ riding on this.”

“You know you shouldn’t lie, Sans.” Chara chastises, waving their finger at them with a much serener smile than before. “You’ve been very much hope _less_ for a while now. You’re basically begging me to just _stop_ at this point.”

“Well...” Sans makes it look like he’s going to laugh again but stops. Instead he just shrugs, and he doesn’t even try to put on an act. “Stopping is the best thing I can hope for. And honestly? Maybe this is the best for the both of us?”

“The...” Chara can’t begin to wrap their head around that. “The best?”

“I mean, kid, you’re tired. I’m tired. There’s nothing for either of us at the end of this fight. I’m just going to die and you’re going to—what? Destroy everything _again_? And then do it all over **_again_**?” Sans shakes his head. “Hey, maybe just stopping you here and now and a whole bunch of nothing will let you settle out those serious problems of yours. Clear that messed up head of yours. Either one if not both.”

Chara twitched. Their grip on the knife tightened enough to hurt, but the second they so much as jerked out of position—Sans’s eye flashed to send them right back in place.

It was irritating. But they most certainly couldn’t do anything like this. Irritating. Infuriating.

Sans really knew how to push their buttons. It was...incredible, really.

“You still really don’t understand.” They say coldly, and for once, there was no smile in sight on their lips. Just a straight, dull line. “Either that... Or... Are you just trying to save face? Do really think this is something that _can_ be stopped? Because it can’t. It won’t. It’s like trying to stop a river.”

“Eh, enough rocks thrown and you can block that,” Sans answers simply. “That’s certainly what someone I knew would have done.”

Chara bristled. Still no smile. “You don’t seriously believe it’s that simple. Either it’s idiocy or denial.”

“Whatever you decide, kid.” He rocks on his heels. “I mean, we’ll be here for a while so you got all the time in the world to figure that out. Maybe I’ll give you a hint...later...if you’re good...”

Slurring his words a bit, Sans rubbed at his forehead with a bit of a groan. Chara, with a focus nothing short of intense, simply narrowed their gaze.

 _Good... This isn’t good... Even I know continuing to go this route isn’t_ really _going to get me anywhere..._

But. That didn’t necessarily indicate that they should just abandon the idea and just go on like before. Something did change. For sure, something changed.

Sans yawned. For a brief flicker of a moment—they saw it. The initial fatigue someone only got from repeats. It passed quickly but it was still _there_. Sans still steeled himself quickly, trying to straighten his posture. He steadily returned to slouching not long after, but that he still tried meant something.

_There are still ways I can break you. That these loops can break you. What exactly are you clinging to that keeps you stable despite everything, Sans?_

They already know the answer. It’s a painfully obvious one. Wretchedly expectant. Something they’re also familiar with. They wouldn’t have bothered to remember it in the first place if they weren’t.

Chara’s glare darkened. Sans, noticing, just flashed them a cheeky grin. “You look like you’re stewing in some unpleasant thoughts, kid. Might wanna tone that down a bit for your own sake.”

 _Either it’s idiocy or denial._ They tremble. Just a bit. Just for a moment. _It doesn’t matter. Sooner or later, it’s going to be **clear**._

“Hm? No answer?” Sans asks, light and almost conversational. “Fair enough, I guess. Jeez. You’re creepy when you’re quiet too—not sure which I prefer...”

Chara just smiles.

_I’ll show you just how meaningless everything is._

They smile wider as he stifles another yawn. He blinks slowly and his rocking on his heels is more like a sway. He quickly steadies himself again, but that half-dazed state he’s in doesn’t dissipate.

_I won’t even have to force you over the edge—you’ll understand._

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Sans does ask, albeit drearily. “Like, literally anything at all?”

 _You’ll see just how worthless holding onto_ **anything** _in a world like this is._

Chara moves to get to their feet. Sans’s eye immediately flashes. They simply giggle in time with that high-pitched _ding_. Sans just sighs, shaking his head, muttering to himself something incoherent. Chara giggles a bit louder.

_I’ll show you. I’ll make it clear. You’ll see. You’ll see. It’s a **c y c l e** —_

They went quiet. Sans glanced at them. But they just sat there, still. Silent. Smiling. Like a sweet little doll. Sans, though his own smile stayed in place, narrowed his gaze just a bit. The lights in his eyes flickered—it may have been a sign he was unnerved.

Bothered.

_Curious?_

Chara kept smiling and saying nothing.

Sans stared until his eyes started to shut. His grin slacked, but he did try. He did sincerely _try_ to stay awake. For a few moments.

Chara waited. And waited. And waited.

Sans kept himself steady. Even as he slept, he stood. It’s hilarious. It’s a sight that used to make Chara stifle their giggles as they approached him, the shimmer of their knife especially malevolent in the golden light of the halls.

Chara’s still quiet as they push theirself to their feet. Their smile is more like the sown-on one of a doll’s than really _theirs_.

They don’t even look at their knife, even as they catch the blade’s sheen in the peripherals of their gaze. They just carefully stride towards Sans, eyes locked ahead on nothing else. Sans’s head is bowed as he snoozes, bobbles almost like someone trying not to drown.

Chara pats the crown of his skull. He doesn’t even stir. They ready their knife. When they speak, he does seem to rouse a bit from sleep—perking up just a bit, lights in his eyes starting to flicker on but—

“I’ll see you later, Sans.”

But it’s much too late by then. Sans, to his credit, doesn’t even choke when Chara lodges their knife into his ribs. It hardly feels like anything slicing him open, even as something sticky gooey **red** gets on their fingers and Sans coughs whatever _that_ is up.

They pull out and back away, smiling oh so sweetly as Sans grabs at the gash across his chest like he could just close it up if he held hard enough. He’s still standing. That makes Chara smile wider.

“Heh... H-Heh.” Sans laughs too. His laughter sounds grotesque, stifled by that gooey red that drips to the floor with the same viscous quality as blood. “Well, uh... That’s that then... Welp.”

He stumbles as he walks, brushing past them as though it were just a mundane accident. Like they both just were crossing one another on the street in a hurry to get to their next destination.

“I’m going to Grillby’s,” he says and just as Chara turns to wave goodbye—both their smile and hand drop as he asks, “Papyrus... You want anything?”

It’s been who knows how many times and Chara still jerks their gaze away, shaking and not watching as the sound of Sans disintegrating meets their ears. They don’t have to see to know that the dripping red left a trail. Despite everything, this ending was the same.

_It’s a cycle. Sans will understand, Sans will see. I’ll make sure of it._

This was a decision they steeled theirself to. They moved forward all the same, but they knew that sticking to this decision would lead them down a different path. For once, they actually looked forward to it. Their beaming was euphoric at the thought.

It wasn’t for very long. Once Chara opened those double doors, heard the sound of Asriel’s sniveling echo across the throne room, and the king’s gentle, comforting tenor—their mood darkened significantly.

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Not the king’s pathetic placating, not Asriel’s begging face and tearful pleas on a wretched weed of an abomination. There’d be change. There’d be something new to this—some _one_ new as Chara laughed alone in a dusty garden.

* * *

There once was a child that made a choice. A choice that could have turned out the same as a different choice from who knows how long ago. But, this time, perhaps...

_There would be someone else? They wouldn’t be alone?_

That’s what the child hoped for, at least.

With certainty, they could only move forward but with the pathway of something new to progress through this go-around spread out before them... They were not only hopeful, but determined.

 


	2. love Love LOVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a guy who loves to do nothing, Sans deals remarkably well with everything that's happening around him. If he actually deals at all.
> 
> I'm really not sure. This guy's hard to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe how long this got compared to the last one, especially in relation to how short of a time it took to write it. But I just got excited, I guess.
> 
> New tags!! Such excite!!!
> 
> Honestly I really like this chapter, even if it's weirdly eventful. And it being so eventful is even weirder when you consider it's Sans. Poor Sans...? He's uh, actually not the one I feel sorriest for in this chapter. And honestly it'll take him a while to get there at this rate. Good...for him??? (Not saying I DON'T feel bad just not...that bad.)
> 
> Also I think I'll update the summary with each new chapter. It's funner that way.

There’s a spring digging into his spine and he hardly notices. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at the ceiling or what he was doing before. “Before” not really referring to _before_ -before but more like before on this particular day he might’ve experienced already. Might’ve, because everything before-before might’ve just been a long, long nightmare.

He’d really like to think that was the case. If only that so-called nightmare wasn’t so painfully vivid and detailed in ways nightmares before had never really been. He still remembers clearly the warmth from the filtered stained glass windows of the Judgement Hall—no real surprise since he’s been there more than a few times—and less unsurprisingly, he can still recount that kid’s appearance as they approached. Hands and sweater coated in dust, a knife in their tightly-clenched grip, a rosy-cheeked smile... Their eyes. That had always been the kid’s most peculiar feature. Both the most telling and the most...puzzling.

Eyes are the window into the soul, as that saying goes. He’s always fully subscribed to that idea—and found that a lot could be presumed from the appearance of someone’s eyes, thus regarding the statement as true at least most of the time. From the fire always blazing on in Undyne’s eye to the shy, always avoidant gaze of Alphys to Papyrus’s wide-eyed good-hearted innocence. But monsters in general were usually easy to read.

Humans were something else. Humans smiled even when they didn’t mean it in the slightest and didn’t even really want to, on top of it. Humans either met gazes or looked away, and both could signify the same thing. Well, he’s hardly an expert on them, of course—he’s seen more cartoonish depictions of humans than actual humans by quite the large margin.

But he knows abnormality when he sees it, and he’s sure that kid with their red-brown gaze was practically a textbook example. Of something. He’s not sure what. Nor is he sure he wants to know what.

He’d rather just act like it was nothing more than one long nightmare, honestly. Maybe if he stares hard enough at his ceiling, it’ll open up and something will tell him, “Yes, Sans, you’ve finally gone crazy in your excessive spacing out. Now strap in, space cadet, for the moment you’re sent plummeting back to Earth and Underground.”

_Whee._

If only.

...Papyrus should be shouting for him in a moment though. Probably. He’s completely lost track of time and has no real idea. Because of that way too long way too vivid nightmare, he can’t even remember what he was doing before. Sleeping, probably. Except he has no memory of waking up. Maybe he had been daydreaming?

He does remember falling asleep. In the hall. With the kid sitting and smiling at him because that wasn’t creepy or anything. Right as he ‘woke’, right before that sharp, agonizing pain of being cut through, he remembered hearing, so softly it could have been imagined, the kid telling him that they’ll...

_...see him later..._

“ _Welp_.” Sans threw his arm over his eye sockets, stifling pained laughter as his chest still throbbed as though there were a wound. Which there wasn’t—he checked. His ribcage was smooth, untouched, and as brittle as ever. But it didn’t _feel_ that way at all. It didn’t even feel like it was _his_ anymore. Like there was some distinction between his physical body and how he physically felt. That...was abnormal. He’s sure of it.

And it was worrying. If this bout of mild dissociation affects his control of magic, it’s going to draw attention. At worse, it could hurt someone else by accident— _he’d like to think the damage would be minimal and for not the first time, he’s thankful for his low stats assuring that much_ —but at the very least, someone’s bound to notice. A carefree easy-going guy doesn’t just slip up with magic unless there’s something really kind of _wrong_ going on.

Papyrus will be alerted immediately to something up, be it on his own or from any one well-meaning monster worried about him. And even if Sans can easily dodge questions, the same can’t easily be said about dodging his brother’s worried gaze. Papyrus will stick close to him, acting as an extra lookout for whatever may be causing this disruption, and as cool as he’ll be while doing this—it’s just not something Sans wants to happen. It’d just drag them both down. Papyrus should be focused on his _own_ things.

Papyrus.

He can hear Papyrus downstairs. His brother’s doing his morning routine. Scrubbing the floors, sprinkling San’s pet rock, shouting at whatever the dog that always bothers him has done that day, reciting Royal Guard responses loud and proud even if he has to bark, and then giving battle cries against tomatoes that Sans is sure would be crying too if they could.

Any moment now, Papyrus will shout for him. He usually does after cooking. Right now he’s just stomping around, practicing his marching. Left, left, left right left. Sans used to play his trombone in beat with that until he decided that incidental music was a far more useful utilization of that skill. Papyrus is still pretty annoyed about that.

“Heh.”

Though it wasn’t like that change...put a _dent_ in their relationship.

Sans chuckled a bit at the ceiling. Somewhere downstairs, Papyrus shouted at the dog for giving him a _ruff_ time. Sans stifled his next laugh.

Papyrus shouting for _him_ instead the next moment silenced that laughter immediately.

“Sans, you lazybones!! Are you still _napping_?!”

“Uh... Urk.” Sans pushed himself up, wincing from that spring, and responding best he can as his brother’s footsteps thundered up the stairs. “I... I’ll be...”

He had been way too quiet. Papyrus obviously didn’t hear him, slamming the door open with gusto.

“ _Sans_!!” Like how he imagined the first flash of sunrise to be, Papyrus was already grinning at him once he noticed. “So you’re up after all!”

“...yeah...” He nodded, smile twitching at the edges. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

No good. Papyrus’s smile faltered.

“That’s actually...odd.” Quieter, he asks. “Did you have a difficult night, Sans?”

“No, that’s not it,” Sans waved that idea off with his hand. “I don’t even remember what happened last night.”

It technically wasn’t a lie. That nightmare had so much to it that everything before was a blur. What had he even been doing before the kid showed—up... _oh_. Wait. That’s right.

“Perhaps...” Papyrus began, hand on his hip as he cupped his chin in deep thought. “You also felt the feeling that I had?”

Sans just grins even as he stumbles a bit. “You’re uh, gonna have to tell me what you mean by that, bro.”

“I mean!” His brother exclaims, straightening up. “A _sinking_ feeling! One that—!”

“Has ya _reeling_?” he can’t help but supply. Papyrus stopped for a bit, genuinely thinking it over before shaking his head.

“No, not...” He finally realized and shot Sans a pointed look to which he just grinned wider and shrugged back. Papyrus, with a sigh, goes on all the same. “That’s _not_ what I meant. Sans, be serious. Witty punning has its time and place and that time is not _now_ nor is that place _here_.”

“Aw, shucks,” Rubbing at the back of his neck, Sans couldn’t help but laugh for just a bit. When Papyrus actually seemed to pout at him, he stopped. Tone a lot cooler, he responded more adequately. “Alright, fine. Serious mode on now, I guess. What do you mean by sinking feeling?”

“Oh, you should know! You’re good with words if nothing else!” Papyrus pointed out in frustration. “It’s that—that feeling you get when you know something’s going to happen! Like...a feeling that’s just...”

“In your bones?”

“ _SANS_!! IF YOU’RE REALLY NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS _SERIOUSLY_ —!!”

“No, bro, I _am_ being completely serious right now.” He kept his tone smooth and insistent. Papyrus, for once, stops cold as he perked up. Sans was still grinning, of course, he rarely if ever didn’t—but it was clear from his gaze that he meant what he said. And that...was an uncommon sight on its own, all things considered, even as Sans went on, lightening his tone almost immediately after, “I think the word you’re looking for is _intuition_ , actually.”

“Yes... That’s it.” Papyrus nodded a bit jerkily, pulling at his scarf. A nervous tick. Sans stiffened even as his expression stayed the same. “Something like that. A gut feeling, as Undyne would put it—even though, as a skeleton, I don’t have a gut...”

“Hence the ‘in your bones’ comment, Papyrus.” Sans said even as he shrugged. “It’s just our equivalent.”

“I’m sorry for doubting you then.” Though the huffiness of that comment was a little suspect. Sans lightly laughed that off all the same as Papyrus folded his arms tightly against the chest piece of his makeshift armor, puffing out his chest as he went back to exclaiming, “That said! You distracted me from telling you what _exactly_ that feeling meant! Nor did you answer my initial question!”

“Heh... Suppose not...” He did have a sinking feeling too about where this conversation was going. “So, uh, what exactly...do you think that feeling meant, Paps?”

“That something’s about to happen, clearly! Something— _significant_!”

It could just be wishful thinking. It’s not like Papyrus hasn’t made these kinds of claims before about a day that turned out mundane in every single way except for the occasional weird little oddity that didn’t really _change_ anything. But it’s been a while since his brother has looked so...

...certain about this.

“I just know it in my SOUL to be true, Sans!!” he reiterated, clenching his fist tight to pump it with a pose Sans is sure that he saw on one of those cartoons. “Today is undoubtedly going to be something important! A day that may MAKE monsters’ history! A day that—nye _heh_ —of course has to be,” Hand to his chest, striking the most impressive of poses as he looked up with sparkling eyes to that dull ceiling, “The PERFECT day for _The Great Papyrus_ to prove his worth to The Royal Guard!!”

He’ll never forget how that scarf looks billowing in the snowy wind, surrounded by dust, insistences and promises of the capability of **_goodness_** echoing in his mind over and over again like a mean-spirited piece of cruelty claiming itself to be a ‘joke’.

“O...h...re...a...l...l...y...”

“But of course! Though whatever it is certainly isn’t going to happen in your filthy room.” Papyrus stared at the trash tornado with blatant disgust. If he had skin, it’d certainly be crawling. Nevertheless, he quickly turned back to Sans, with his hunched posture, buried hands, and eye sockets dark. Wrapping his gloved hand tight around the other’s arm, Papyrus gave a pull, snapping him out of that mood with a cheerful add of, “So we need to get going, Sans! I’ve already prepared breakfast so there’s extra time to get work done for today! Puzzle recalibrations! Hijinks! Lowjinks! Lookouts! So much could happen, Sans!”

“That’s real cool of you, bro,” Sans responded with a chuckle, though it was still noticeably dull and even with the light returned to his eyes, there were still shadows underneath. He still sincerely smiled up at him, but Papyrus’s grip on his arm didn’t lessen. “So, uh, what’s the holdup for? Are ya gonna pull me along or what? Never thought _you’d_ be the one to wait around, so like—”

Papyrus pulled him into a tight hug.

Sans stiffened immediately, smile buried in that scarf as the lights in his eyes flickered. Despite everything, there was warmth in this embrace—and Papyrus held him close as though he’d slip through otherwise. When Papyrus squeezed him even tighter, he flinched.

“Is everything alright, Papyrus?” he finally manages to ask. No answer, but it only takes him a few seconds to figure out what this is about. Then, with a sigh, he adds, “I’m fine. Really, I am. If you’re here, everything’s fine. I’ve told you that before, Paps. I meant it, too.”

“I know! I just...” If he was held any tighter, he’d probably break. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Where it counted, his brother was never anything but careful. “I don’t really know, Sans. I had that same feeling—an intuition that you needed this. I’m still not sure but—there’s no reason not to. So...”

“Yeah?” Papyrus nodded furiously, but the second Sans wrapped his arms around him and returned the embrace, he relaxed noticeably. “Thanks, bro. It really means a lot.” Rubbing the other’s back, Sans gave a chuckle, grin a bit wider. “Really, I’m _fine_. Who wouldn’t be with such a cool bro, right?”

“Right!” Papyrus agreed immediately, pulling away to squeeze Sans’s shoulders, meeting his stare with bright eyes sparking with life and certainty. “If you’ve got someone like me, there’s nothing to worry about at all! Leave everything to The _Great_ Papyrus!!”

“Cool.” Sans said simply. And then, “So can I quit all my jobs then?”

He barely had to wait a second before that bright smile fell comically off his brother’s face.

“URGH!! _NO_!!” Papyrus shook him hard enough to get his bones rattling as though that’d be enough to banish such a blasphemous thought. “As the DEPENDABLE Papyrus, I won’t condone such  ** _IRRESPONSIBILITY_**  from you, brother!!! _Especially when you’re the one paying for the house_!!”

“Heh.” Sans, even as rattled as he was, still snickered. “Alright then. Whatever you say, bro.”

“I _MEAN_ it, Sans!!” he reiterated. It almost came across as harsher than Sans would’ve expected otherwise. Sucking in a breath, he found himself nodding. Papyrus, satisfied, grinned wide, and pulled him into another hug, patting his skull affectionately as he laughed.

Sans, leaning into him in return, just sighed. Then he felt Papyrus pause, his hand stilling against his skull.

“That said...” he began. He started speaking slowly at first but quickened as time went on, even as his voice seemed to waver in places. “Sans, you can still tell me if you’re having difficulty. You can tell me anything. You...know that, don’t you?”

“Hmm?” The lights in his eyes flickered upwards, but Sans’s expression still didn’t change at all. “What brought _that_ on?”

“Er.” Staring back, Papyrus just blinked before shaking his head. “Intuition again, maybe?” Seeming to leave it at that, to Sans’s relief, Papyrus patted his head one last time before being on his way. “We really should get going! The food will be cold, Sans! That won’t be good!”

“Very uncool,” Sans agreed, following in step and grinning widely as Papyrus just groaned and quickened his pace, forcing Sans to hurry if he wanted to keep up. And for once, he did.

He wasn’t going to think past that, though.

* * *

If nothing else, he can count on Snowdin to be constant. The snow always fell about the same and there was only the occasional breeze. The residents here all had a routine that rarely changed—and even before he started noticing the repetition in reports, there were few other places Underground where days truly blurred together into an indistinct blur of the same routines on repeat. In the beginning, he found the regularity and lack of surprise to add to Snowdin’s relaxed charm compared to those other parts.

Despite everything, he still felt that way to an extent. For the most part.

For what it was worth, it was impossible to get bored with Papyrus loudly chattering and yelling, be it to him or most of the time _at_ him.

For the moment, it was the former. Papyrus ahead of him, pointing ahead as he just trailed behind, mitted hands tucked away in his pockets, head ducked. The entire time, Papyrus was exclaiming.

“Though everything may seem normal, you must keep your eye sockets ALERT, Sans!!” Quickly, he added. “You never know when something unexpected may strike!!”

“Huh. Okay.”

“I mean it, Sans!!” Papyrus insisted. “The answer may _SURPRISE_ you!!!”

“Kay.”

“SO...!” He paused for just a moment. Sans perked up, just a little.

“So...what?”

“So don’t look DOWN, Sans!” He ordered, spinning around to face him and making the seamless shift from walking forwards to walking backwards so that he wouldn’t break stride. “Keep your stare STRAIGHT ahead!”

“...ehhh...”

“Head up! Chin up! _That’s_ how the Royal Guard do it!”

“...ehhhhhhh...”

“Sans, _work_ with me here!!”

“Nah.”

“ _SANS_!!!”

“Would you look at that, it’s almost time for my shift,” Sans said as he stopped to check his nonexistent watch. His brother stopped too, but was still clearly ticked off. “Well. I should start heading that way then. My post isn’t going to man itself—although that would be great if it did.”

“But you didn’t even recalibrate your puzzles, Sans!” Papyrus snapped in annoyance, stomping his foot. “You didn’t DO anything!”

“Oh, did I?” he asked, grinning cheekily.

“ _NO_ , you didn’t!!” Papyrus insisted, completely undeterred. Sans’s smile twitched in response as the other went on. “Well, not _technically_ nothing since you did at least follow me this time as opposed to just _appearing_ everywhere. But you really should have worked on your puzzles when you had the chance, Sans! What if the human showed up today and immediately left because they were so disappointed?!”

A certain smile flashed in his mind. Sans flinched slightly at the thought. He couldn’t help but be grateful that Papyrus didn’t seem to notice.

“In that case...” he started, a little slower than he should have been, but still managing. “Well... If they stick around in spite of that, they’ll be blown out of the water when they see your puzzles, right?”

“Sans, they should be impressed regardless!” Papyrus exclaimed matter-of-factly. “You still owe it to them and to the puzzles that you put your whole _SOUL_ into creation and recalibration! And to yourself!”

“Hey, for what it’s worth I did get _a_ puzzle done...recently. Probably.” He didn’t say all this already, right? By that dumbstruck awe on his brother’s face, it’s safe to assume so. Probably. “I spent a lot of free time in the Librarby working on it. I dare call it my magnum opus.”

“Wowie, really?!”

“Yeah, it was going to be a surprise for both you and whatever human showed up but...eh.” Sans shrugged. “It’s no fun keeping that info all to myself... I really do need to get going though.” Turning towards the direction of his sentry station, he waved Papyrus off as he began to make his way. “I’ll show it to you later.”

“ _SANS_!”

He stopped. He didn’t tense but he did stop.

“Today is the day—I’m _SURE_ of it!!” Papyrus gave him a thumbs up, grinning so widely that Sans couldn’t help but be impressed by how painless it looked. He did smile back in spite of himself. Even with the next statement. “There absolutely HAS to be a human today! So keep on the lookout! Don’t worry for having to entertain them for too long, Sans! I, your _COOL_ Brother and the **_GREAT_** Papyrus, will be checking on you soon enough to handle it!!”

“...Got’cha...”

He nodded, but waited until Papyrus rushed off in the other direction before resuming his trek to his station. There was a lightness to the cold and wind—his feet never felt heavier.

But he walked.

* * *

It _had_ been a nightmare, right?

He had been telling himself that much—but he knew there was more to it than that. Maybe that was just the...intuition talking. He didn’t know for sure. So it could have just been a nightmare. He can’t rule out that simple possibility because, what...the images were far too vivid? Yeah, his dreams weren’t detailed often but that didn’t mean they never _could_ be. He can still consider...

_“Consider it.”_

Sans immediately shook his head as he walked. As the giant door came into view, his soul pulsed. He stopped a few paces away, stare burrowing into the peculiar entry way that’s been locked for as long as he’s known about it. The Delta Rune upon the stone frame’s headpiece stares back as he directs his gaze upwards.

Idly toying with fuzz in his hoodie pocket, he let out a sigh before walking up to the door and rapping his knuckles against the surface.

No answer. Maybe it was busy on the other side.

...it felt like it’d been a long time since he heard that woman’s voice. He wondered if he ever would ever again. Maybe that was his bleak pessimism talking—but a deeply-root coldness in his bones seemed to agree with the idea.

He never caught her name. Then again, he never threw his. Simple as that. They both seemed to want to keep things as simple as possible between them. He really appreciated that mutual effort. It made things easier. Though now, he’s not exactly sure how to feel.

But, hey. If that’s the case after all then, at least he knows that on her side, she isn’t _feeling_ anything. Or, in just a few moments, she _won’t_ feel anything anymore.

“...Heh.”

He almost envies that. The most he can do is disappear in a flicker of magic. And he’ll still be there, even if unseen.

He’ll be waiting.

* * *

In the nightmare, as weird as it was to focus on this, there was something peculiar about the moment the door opened—outside of it just being opened in the first place. The door creaks when it opens—and because it’s opened slowly due to the difficulty he assumes there is in pushing it, that creak is all the more resounding, all the more haunting. He could hear it even all the way from his station.

But closer, he can say he _really_ doesn’t like that sound at all. It’s worse because when whoever’s coming out finally manages to step through, that door tends to slam determinedly _shut_ behind them. Almost as though that was its own way of saying it’d be impossible to turn back.

The human doesn’t even flinch. They just look around. The dark brown of their fringe hides their eyes, but they’re smiling with something that looks like _anticipation_. Sans, instinctively, burrows further into the darkness where he can’t be seen. He almost feels the pulse of his soul as they keep looking before moving on ahead, humming as they do. Their hands—their _dusty_ hands—sway at their side.

Maybe that’s just from the door. They just came out of the Ruins. There’s plenty of possibilities.

Those hands aren’t as dusty as before— _but there are so **many** monsters between here and there_—

Sans crushes the branch to pieces as he follows them. They seem to slow down their pace, just a little, and he’s already slipped the whoopee cushion into his mitt as he catches up to them. Then, he stops, because they’ve stopped. Quite a way from Papyrus’s makeshift gate.

That was just weird.

“Human.”

He reaches for them, and before he can say anything else, their right hand grabs his left. This way, they can squeeze without that whoopee cushion going off. Dumbfounded, he blinks quickly, and then his eyes meet red-brown, and that rosy-cheeked smile widens on the round face that still somehow looked _human_ in spite of everything.

“Greetings,” they say, and they give his hand a shake. “ _Sans_.”

“Ah... Huh.” Sans just pulled his hand back, pulling the whoopee cushion from his mitt to shuffle it back into his pocket. No point in using the same joke twice, right? Especially with the exact same setup. No point at all. “Heh.”

“Hehe.” They giggle into their hand in return. “You look so _rattled_.” Rocking on their heels, arms folded behind their back, the kid smiled up at him in a way that looked almost affectionate. “That look—you still remember me, don’t you?”

“You’re the kid.” He says simply. The cold wind is little more than a rustle against bushes and trees. “The one pretending to be human.”

“No, no,” they sing-song. “I’m definitely human, Sans. Or well, I was? Maybe? Maybe I’m just the demon that comes when you call their name! Maybe you _were_ onto something!”

“I didn’t _call_ for ya, kid.” Matter-of-fact. He feels that _cold_ again even though he shouldn’t be able to. “On the contrary, I was, uh, kind of hoping you didn’t exist.” He’s already stepping back, and the lights in his eyes are flickering. “Like a bad dream or something.”

“Repeating timelines do feel like dreams, don’t they?” they ask, dreamily smiling too. They step closer. “But in times like these—memories, dreams, they all amount to the same... Neither really matter. Both can be overwritten so very easily. That’s fascinating—but it’s also very devastating, once the implications really set in.”

Sans didn’t answer at first. He was just quiet for a few moments, letting this all sink in.

Everything that happened in that nightmare. From everyone else dying to watching this twisted child die by his hands over and over again.

Then he just snorted.

“Wow. Listening to you talk is somehow a worse experience than I remember. Cut to the _chase_ , you freak.” The kid didn’t even flinch, but their smile did widen, eyes so bright when his gaze was nothing but darkness while locked with their own. “Do you _want_ something from me or what? Because trying to start some deeply philosophical conversations with someone with memories of you killing their family and friends and a whole other lot of innocents—that’s just _bizarre_ , even for you.”

They laugh. Chipper and upbeat, like any other kid’s laughter. If he had skin, it’d be crawling.

“What I want is simple. And it hasn’t changed.” Poking him in the sternum, beaming up at him, they enunciated, each syllable loud and clear, “I want _you_. As my _partner_.”

“Because that’s not creepy or anything.” Sans stated bluntly, smile twitching. “Or, _ya know_ , ever going to happen _ever_.”

“Is that a certainty?” They ask with another giggle. Then, softer, “Or is it a _challenge_? I already said I was determined to fight for that. And, _Sans_ ,” Their eyelashes lower, that voice twists into something sickeningly sweet. “You remember how our fights go, don’t you? You can kill me, over and over again, in a variety of gruesome ways—but at some point, you’re at a nothing more than a _dead end_.”

As though he hadn’t already been there for a while now. Hell, he’s probably been there longer than he or especially this kid could _begin_ to comprehend. But what’s time to a time traveler? What’s death to a mass murderer? Then again...

If nothing really mattered, then.

“Eh.” He shrugs and with a flicker he goes from being in front of the kid to behind them. They quickly spin back around to face them, eyes wide. The whole process was as quick as a blink, and there was a look of fascination on their features. He didn’t care for that, but winks at them all the same. “Kid, I’ve got _no_ interest in associating with you out of the realm of necessity. Sorry not sorry if that breaks your heart. But if you really feel like forcing my hand again—I _guess_ I could come up with some new strategies in the meantime.”

They simply smile back, and then they’re giggling into their hands again.

“Wow, you really are heartless.”

“Well,” he laughs that off. “Being a skeleton, that can’t be helped.”

“Not what I meant.” They shake their head. “I mean—you’re really heartless if you’re going to stand by and let me kill all those ‘innocents’ all over again. So when your brother waltzes up here—can I kill him first?”

That gets his attention. More so when they pull out that familiar knife—he sees the sheen in how it was in the Judgement Hall and goes very, very still as they dig their finger into the blade like they had before.

“He’ll be arriving any moment now, won’t he? How do you think he’ll react? Sure, you know what to expect—but he still has no _idea_.” Their smile looked like more of a sneer. “Then again, he’s not terribly _smart_ in the first place, is he? I could cut him down and he’ll still be prattling a good bit of nonsense. But, if you’re there—doing _nothing_ as he _dies_ —what, do you think, will be his reaction?”

Sans’s fists began to clench.

“Disappointment?” they suggest, tilting their head back and forth. “Concern? Will he see your inaction as distress...or indifference? Hey, do you think that, in all his ignorance, he’ll spend his last moments trying to convince you that I—ah, huh? That look on your face...”

They stop, blinking wide, wide red-brown eyes at him with a mixture of curiosity and surprise before bursting out laughing. They waved their hand at him as though to be placating before rapping their nails against the plastic blade, explaining oh so cheerily, “Oh, Sans, I’m just _playing_ with you—it’s a _toy_ , not the real—”

_Ding._

The ice-cold grip on their soul cut them off. And before they could even say his name, be it in confusion or curiosity—he already flung their bodies towards the trees. There was a sickening thwack of skull against bark—and he couldn’t be bothered to check what kind of damage that kind of impact had. He could, however, see how they crumbled into the snow, and how the red of blood seeped into the pure white.

“Hey, kid.”

Uncaring, unmoved even as that small body trembled, Sans’s tone was flat and chillier than that snow would ever be.

**_“Stay the_ hell _away from me.”_**

And then he was gone as though he were nothing more than a cold wind’s breeze.

* * *

Even with their head spinning, Sans’s words had been loud and clear. It was certainly enough to get them giggling hysterically, both from their injuries and from genuine amusement as they pushed theirself up with struggling arms. Unlike the warmth of the hall, the cold of the snow and air bit into their skin without remorse. Dizzily, they couldn’t tell if the thick liquid dripping from their lower lip down their chin was blood or saliva.

It was lucky they weren’t knocked unconscious, but their senses still felt dulled, like everything was filtered from the blurry white against red and dark, dark brown, to the muddled stench of blood and frost. It hurt. It really, really hurt—but they also felt as though they were steadily growing number, like their body was slowly shutting down.

“Ha... Haha... S-Sans...” Oh, were they shaking? “S-So...so _cold_...!!”

Still laughing, Chara covered their mouth. Then they started choking, and coughing harshly against that hand. Something splattered against their palm, and when they pulled away, there was more of that thick, dripping red, ever darker from the dust.

At least the snow was already ruined. They’re not sure where the toy knife went, which was a little annoying and—they couldn’t move the fingers on that hand quite right. Broken, perhaps? They wondered how that even happened.

_Hm._

Flinging their bloodied hand, they managed to get into a position where they were sitting up against that tree, taking a deep breath even as their body quivered. Chara grinned, sticking their tongue through a gap left behind from some teeth that got knocked out.

To Sans’s credit, that toy wasn’t exactly harmless. It was still a toy, of course, but as a tool, it served its purpose fine. And besides, this whole situation was little more than a game anyway. Sans was just playing _especially_ hard to get.

“Hehe.” They laughed, both at their own joke and their mind still in a bit of a whirl. It was getting difficult to stay awake, to keeping their eyes open when their sight was blurring as much as it was. Despite that, they could see that flash of yellow off somewhere, and their smile faded.

Finally, they shut their eyes and let theirself fall into the darkness where the sparkling light of a SAVE file lingered at the bottom.

* * *

Sans didn’t skip through area to area as much as he blinked past snow and trees. His eye was still flickering with magic, to the point he had to stop somewhere to press his hand against the socket. It burned under his hand, even through his glove.

Not the most assuring state to be in. Even though he was in a rush to intercept Papyrus—appearing in this state might just...

“ _Sans_?!”

Sans perked up, eye still covered. Papyrus was sprinting towards him, openly showing surprise and confusion and—welp, there it was. Clear concern for this curious sight.

“Are you alright?!” he immediately asked, and it was like he rushed to make those long strides between the two of them. He was already taking Sans’s wrist to pull his hand away. Checking the eye socket first thing. Of course.

Papyrus seemed startled at the flare of neon blue and yellow, even if that was only for a moment, even though Sans managed to shut that off quickly enough. It did, however, take a while for the normal lights in his sockets to return altogether.

When they did, he said, quietly and casually as ever.

“Heya, Papyrus.” Grinning, he lied through his teeth as though lying to his brother’s face was the easiest thing. “Nothing was going on at the station as per usual so I decided to go to Grillby’s. Wanna come?”

It’s not like it really mattered, right? Nothing big either way.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” Papyrus asked carefully. Sans showed no visible response. Papyrus just sighs. “And...you’re not going to tell me anything...”

He really shouldn’t look so disappointed.

But did he _really_ expect any different?

“It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” It’s easy to say that much. Especially with that grin. “So, uh, you didn’t answer my question...”

“W-Well!!” Papyrus pulled away, clearing his metaphorical throat, giving the usual tirade that came with such a question with none of the act’s usual assertion and bravado. “Y-You know how I feel about that place, Sans! And, on TOP of that—you’re supposed to be at your _station_! That you’d in addition even try to cajole ME into your lazy endeavors— _that_ —that’s just— _WEIRD_ , Sans! Even for you!”

He really did seem frustrated though.

“Come on,” Sans urged, laughing lightly and pleadingly reaching for him in a way that had his brother flinch, eyes once again going wide. “Let’s just go, alright? _Please_ , Paps?”

“...Urgh.” Those features seemed to twist, and his Papyrus even seemed to grimace. “Sans, that’s just unfair. Don’t _look_ at me like—”

“Like what?” he immediately asked and Papyrus’s jaw clinked shut. He was still being looked at weirdly—like there really was something _wrong_ and—well. Sans tilts his head, shrugging his shoulders like he was just waiting for an answer and nothing more. “So can we go?”

“I...” Papyrus hesitated for a second. When Sans’s smile started to visibly strain, he hurriedly exclaimed. “Just this once!! You, well, did follow in my footsteps for the entirety of our patrolling, after all... BUT! Don’t expect this much for that little effort in the future!” He finished, firmly and definitely, “I’m NOT going to spoil you, Sans!”

“Got’cha.” Sans nodded, letting himself relax with an exhale and patting his brother’s arm in gratitude. Papyrus placed an arm on the back of his shoulders as they walked together, as though trying to steady him just in case. Just in case.

At least Papyrus was giving his usual goofy grin. Even if it seemed more for the sake of comfort than anything else. It was enough for him. This was fine. This much was fine.

Everything was— _fine_?

Sans slipped on the ice the second he felt the shift. It was almost like the very ground was a rug pulled out from under his slippers.

“ _Sans_ —?” Papyrus’s voice sounded like it was being physically pulled away. But Sans saw, at least, his brother instantly moving to catch him, arms spreading out, even if felt more like a movie going on around him rather than any semblance of reality.

Just as easily as he could have pressed a button on a remote to flick the screen off, Sans found himself back on his bed, spring digging into his spine, and eye sockets vacantly locked onto the ceiling.

Sans blinked, and then focused on the sounds of Papyrus downstairs. The usual routine. The same exact sounds.

“...Huh.”

* * *

The sensation of shifting timelines had always been rather disorienting, even if almost like taking a shortcut. Just without his will or command—which made a world of difference both figuratively and literally.

The first few— _several_ —times hadn’t thrown him much for a loop if only because the backdrop stayed the same. It was still the Judgement Hall. Same golden light, same warmth, same ethereal sort of beauty brought from those lights filtered through the stained glass windows. All of that was the same, and all of that stayed the same the entire time.

Unsurprisingly, the kid was the only real anomaly.

One moment, he’d be looking down at a viscous mess of corpse, so much gore and blood _oozing_ , staining the shimmering tiles. A mess of a formerly living thing that _he_ made—and one that’d look like a pain to clean up. But then it didn’t matter.

In the next moment, that body was gone and he immediately snapped up at the sound of footsteps clacking against those tiles, restored to pristine spotlessness. The kid was there, without a scratch—although it was hard to tell with all that _dust_.

But they were still alive. As though their death was nothing more than a dream or hallucination.

Even as he knew it wasn’t. He killed them—he _knew_ he did—and he knew it wouldn’t stick with their ability to RESET looming overhead—but he hadn’t expected to _remember_ it. He hadn’t expected the _memory_ to stick when everything else didn’t. He hadn’t expected that degree of _unnaturalness_ that came with remembering something that had happened—but then didn’t.

It was hard to adequately explain something so alien in both concept and execution. He certainly couldn’t begin to muster up the effort to do so. He could barely begin to explain how it really felt.

“That look on your face...” That kid was looking at him. They smiled like they understood. “You’ve never had to live with the memory of killing someone, have you?” That smile looked as though it were meant to be comforting. “Don’t worry, Sans. You’ll get used to it. I’m alright now, see?” Coaxing. “It didn’t matter. Nothing ever matters.”

No, it really didn’t. It didn’t matter at all. Not really. Still. He hadn’t _expected_ this. It was _unnatural_ —how was he **_supposed_** to? It was as frustrating as it was funny.

_This doesn’t matter. This really doesn’t matter. And yet—_

“Would you say you’re determined, Sans?”

It was just so _funny_.

* * *

Sans sprang up from bed. Pulling his coat together, he blinked past his door and past the stairs. Papyrus, though he should have been focused on cooking, immediately picked up on his presence.

“Sans?” he was already leaning outside of the kitchen, looking at him with wide-eyed surprise and confusion. “You’re...up so _early_! Did I wake you or—?”

“Nah, it’s got nothing to do with you, Paps.” Papyrus blinked at him oddly. It was a pretty odd situation in a lot of odd ways. He couldn’t begin to make sense of it even if he had the energy to—but he could tell Papyrus was dangerously close to _over_ thinking it with how he seemed to think that statement over and over with a deepening look of concern and—“Papyrus, don’t— _worry_ about it. Kay? Like I said, it has _nothing_ to do with you.”

“O...kay?” Papyrus still looked a little off-put. Was tilting his head like a confused puppy. Sans’s tense smile softened.

“I’m gonna be out for a bit. Okay, bro?”

“Without breakfast?!” his brother exclaimed, looking beyond mortified. “Sans, are you _SICK_?!”

“No, but I’d rather not risk getting sick. If it bugs you that much, You can just pack some up for me to eat later. Or like, use it for a trap. Pretty sure a human would appreciate it more than me anyway.” Shrugging off the idea, Sans headed for the door, giving Papyrus a salute. “I’ll catch you at your sentry station. Call if you need anything.”

“What are you even going off to do, Sans?” Papyrus asked, following him with his gaze. He still looked so worried. “Is it a surprise?”

“Huh.” Sans paused he twisted the doorknob. Then flashing the other a grin, he said, “It was going _tibia_  surprise but then you ruined it. Shame on you, Papyrus. I worked myself _to the_ _bone_ trying to keep the wool over your eyes.”

He barely had to wait a beat.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?!” Papyrus snapped, now nothing but comically annoyed. “If you keep boondoggling you’re going to be late to—WHATEVER IT IS!”

“Aw, I thought we were having a moment. I felt it _in my_ _bones_ , bro!”

“ ** _LEAVE_** _, SANS_!! AND _LEARN NEW JOKES_!”

Laughing to himself the entire time, Sans saw himself out as Papyrus fumed behind him. As the door shut, his grin dropped in favor of his magic flaring before he disappeared.

* * *

There was still no answer from when he rapped his knuckles against the big locked door. He wasn’t really expecting one—but it wouldn’t have hurt to have checked either way. Though if there was an answer—he wondered what, exactly, he would have gotten out of it.

Well, it wouldn’t have hurt regardless. Probably.

Coming to this spot when the kid was going to take a while was probably not the wisest or most logical course of action. But it gave him time to think. Time to go over his pitifully small action pool and see if there was anything to scrounge up that he hadn’t yet considered.

All he really had was a bunch of half-baked plans and a broken machine. Maybe if he looked through his room, he could find a shoestring or two. Maybe he should raid his ketchup collection. Maybe he could just go back to bed and never wake up until this ‘nightmare’ was over.

All were tempting courses of action. Problem was he’s pretty sure he gave those shoestrings away a long time ago to some kids who needed them for who knows what reason. They said they’d give them back and never did. He could always find new ones at the garbage dump but he’d been particularly attached to those particular ones. Tragic.

Hilarious though, like this whole situation. If he didn’t laugh at it, he’d get hysterical.

It’d be weird to just laugh alone by a door though.

Then _something_ weird happened.

Just as Sans turned to sit down, back to that door, he saw a flash of yellow that popped back into the white of the snow. It was quick enough that he could have imagined it.

He brushed it off at first, of course, but as he waited, resting as he did, that brief flash of yellow appeared and disappeared again from a different spot. And then again from another spot that was clearly meant to be a hiding place.

Sans shut his eye sockets. Kept them that way for a while. Focused instead on sound—the whistle of the wind, the rustling of leaves and bushes—and then something else, so light and discreet that it could have so easily been passed over.

Sans’s stare sprung open, flare in his eye immediate. With that telltale _ding_ , something _yelped_.

Sans, perking up, turned in that direction, letting out a flat, mildly intrigued, “Huh.”

The yellow flower, frozen in blue, was glaring at him with an intensity he wouldn’t grace with a description.

Smiling all the same, he stood up, approaching with hands in his coat pockets and eye still glowing, alternating between blues and yellows.

“Heya, _buddy_. No need to be shy when greeting a pal, right?”

“What’s your problem?!” it immediately demanded. “I—I wasn’t doing anything _wrong_! L-Let go of me, you...you creep!”

“That cuts me to the soul, buddy.” Sans said, though that smile didn’t change. He stood in front of the creature, looking down at it but also sizing it up. The flower did not look mildly amused—if anything it looked beyond pissed. “What’s _stomata_?”

“Huh? I don’t...know...? Wait was that a _joke_?” It seemed to get even angrier. “If—if you don’t let me go, I’ll scream! Don’t think I won’t, you trash bag of bones!”

“A flower that screams on its own would be a fascinating sight to share with the townsfolk,” Sans responded. “I wonder if Papyrus has ever seen anything like this before. Except. Hasn’t he told me about a talking flower _before_? That was you, wasn’t it?”

The flower stilled, its anger dropping in favor of defensiveness.

“Flowery, was it?” Sans asked cheerfully, and that just had it heated all over again.

“ _ARGH_!! I’VE TOLD THAT IDIOT A MILLION TIMES IT WAS **_FLOWEY_** NOT—!!” Flowey cut itself off. Then it took a deep breath, shooting Sans another pouty glare. “Look, _pal_ , it’s not easy being friendly when you’re being held against your will by a _creepy skeleton_. So, why don’t you cut me a break, let me go, and we can start over.”

Sans widened his smile at the flower. Flowey seemed to flinch back and then the lights in those eye sockets were back to normal—with Flowey now able to move freely again.

“Sorry about that, bud.” Sans rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly, chuckling. “I’ve been a little on edge. It’s not _your_ fault. Probably.”

“I’ve...noticed...” Flowey still seemed nervous but quickly brightened with a big smile, sticking its tongue out goofily. “But don’t worry! I forgive you! Let’s start anew! So, howdy! I’m Flowey, and I’m your best friend!”

“Just a few seconds ago, you wanted me to _leaf_ you alone, buddy.” Sans said, to which Flowey waved that off.

“I already forgave you for that, remember, friend? You were just on edge and I _understand_! After all.” The thing winked. “You must have been _real_ angry when you left that kid to die from a concussion in the snow. And that kind of anger doesn’t dissipate easily.”

“No,” he shrugged. “It uh, really doesn’t. But I should know better, being an adult and all.”

Flowey smiled. And smiled. Sans just smiled back.

Then, after a while, Flowey said, smile so bright but sounding utterly unimpressed, “You’re not surprised I know that. You know what’s going on here, don’t you?”

“By the look on your face, I’d assume that _you_ don’t.” Sans pulled his hand away from his neck, shuffling it back into his pocket. “Or that you at least don’t know as much as you’d like to.” Tilting his head, he asked, with a casual sort of air, “Am I on the mark?”

“...Hee. Hehe.” Flowey trembled a bit, giggling. Then it just winked again, sticking out its tongue. “Goodness gracious! Something really smells off here and it’s not _just_ your presence, smiley trash bag!”

Sans didn’t answer at first. At least not verbally, with how he cupped his chin in a thoughtful gesture and hummed, though that smile always remained. Somehow that was enough to make Flowey shake a little more in thinly-veiled antipathy. Flowey’s own grin was twitching—twisting into something sharper, more grotesque.

“Let me just ask you something.” Sans said, and Flowey perked up, even with obvious distaste. “This isn’t the first time we’ve formally met. Is that right?”

“Wow. Papyrus was right. You _are_ slow.” Despite that, Flowey’s eyes were narrowing in suspicion. “That or you’re making fun of me. You _know what’s going on_ , don’t you?”

“If you’re, uh, trying to get me to _tell_ you what’s going on—sorry, bud, but I’m really not the best guy to ask.” He almost seemed apologetic as he shrugged. “Though... Something tells me that isn’t a satisfactory answer. And that, uh, you’re really stirring something _nasty_ under the surface. Word of genuine advice—don’t do whatever it is you’re real tempted to do right now.”

Flowey gave a fanged grin, but the vines receded from under Sans’s slippers.

“You’re lucky.” It says. “If you pulled this earlier—I would have just killed you. But I’m being merciful—aren’t you so very _lucky_ , trash bag?”

“Eh, sometimes good vibes bring upon good fortune. In the very least it makes dealing with unpleasantness a bit easier.” Sans winked. “I’ve got another question, if that’s alright.”

Flowey raised an eyebrow. “Spew away.”

“Could have picked a more pleasant way to word that, but if you insist.” Flowey frowned. It could have been cute. “So, uh... I’ve noticed you’re not my biggest fan.” That frown deepened. “If anything, I think that under ‘normal’ conditions, you’d just avoid my presence altogether. Am I wrong?” Wow, that degree of unamused was kinda incredible. But it answered that inquiry, at least. “That wasn’t my question. I actually wanted to know why you’re here and talking to me even though you’re not a fan. I suspect the motive here isn’t really about me in particular.”

“Of course it isn’t.” Flowey snapped. “Who the hell would put up with you for _you_? All you consist of is dumb jokes. You’re about as worthless as they get. I don’t understand it. I really don’t!” It seemed to get more agitated. “I don’t _understand_ what they see in you!”

Sans barely blinked differently, though his tone did raise just a bit. “ _They_ , being...?”

“Like you don’t KNOW!” The flower shrieked. “Look, garbage brother, I know you know! You know exactly what’s going on—and why the **_hell_** Chara just decided to recruit you out of the blue!”

_...Chara?_ “Is...that the kid’s name? Is that what they _told_ you their name was?”

“ _Who else would it be_?!” Flowey raved, snapping at him with dark, _sharp_ teeth. “Stop it with the stupid questions you only ask to make _me_ look stupider by answering them!”

“Chara...” Sans mused, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. “That’s, uh, a really _distinctive_ name to have... Buddy, are you sure _that’s_ —?”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! **_Stop acting dumb, you IDIOT!_**!” Flowey demanded heatedly, and bullets sprang from its body from the exclamation. They quickly fizzled out before they could do any harm, but only because Flowey caught its breath, groaning before glaring at Sans with such burning frustration even still. “You’re not _fooling_ anyone, you know. I can see right through you.”

Sans really couldn’t help it. “...Because I’m a skeleton?”

“You’re really _testing_ my good will, **_friend_**.” That tone dropped from high-pitched to low and menacing. “I should just change my mind. Chara will understand. Chara always understands. They’re just interested in you for the time _being_. They’ll see soon enough the _garbage_ that you are. And once they do, I’ll—!”

When Sans turned away and directed his attention elsewhere, Flowey screeched heatedly. “ ** _LOOK_** at me when I’m threatening you! What the _hell’s_ your problem?!”

Sans didn’t answer—and Flowey would have just screamed after all—if not for the resounding, guttural _creak_ that cut through the air and made the flower freeze for reasons other than the cold. Flowey did manage to cast a quick glance to Sans for curiosity’s sake—and he wasn’t sure whether to be gratified at the undeniable intensity in his stare over that usual stupid smile—or all the more unsettled about...something.

Though like with everything the smiley trash bag did, there was an undercurrent of plain annoyance. This just wasn’t the time for that though. No, he should have been focused on—

“Heya, kid. You chose an interesting moment to uh, cut in.” Sans greeted coolly, though his hands twisted in his pockets. The kid— _Chara?_ —slid from behind the door and shut it with their back. They smiled up at him, but that smile dropped at the sight of a shivering, still so startled Flowey.

“So this is where you were,” Chara mused curiously with a tilt of their head. That smile slid back into place and Sans could almost imagine the _click_. “I figured you weren’t far. But here? With _Sans_? Were you _jealous_ , Asriel?”

Sans blinked, lights going unfocused.

_...As...riel....? **Asriel**?_

“W-Who’d be jealous of a bag of bones?! I’m not jealous!” The flower squawked indignantly. Then, just as quickly, he seemed to turn somewhat sheepish as he stammered. “Just, er, curious as to why you’d bother with him...”

_One coincidence can be overlooked. It happens. Life’s just weird like that sometimes._

The kid was giggling as they walked up, but they seemed focus on Flowey. “Aw,” they crooned. “You _are_ jealous! You’re _blooming_ with jealousy! That’s so _adorable_ , Asriel.”

_But stuff like this—and so close together—there’s something else here._

“You’re uh, looking a bit _rosy_ there, buddy,” Sans commented just because he had to. Flowey, flustered as he was, instantly spun to shoot daggers with his eyes.

“You stay out of this, trash!”

_Something else. Heh. That’s...one way to put it... Both an understatement and entirely accurate._

“Asriel.” Chara chirped, and Flowey silenced, glancing towards them intently. Sans recognized that stare, and he begun to sweat. Chara, as easily and sweetly as ever, went on. “Actually, I want to talk to Sans alone. So can you give us some privacy?”

“A-Are you sure, Chara?” Flowey stammered. “I-I mean... Hey! If you’re trying to get information out of him—it’d be better if...”

“Don’t worry about it, Asriel. I know what I’m in for.” Chara met his gaze for a moment, and at his unease, that sweet smile widened before they turned back to Flowey, ever so cheerful. “It’s just a _quaint_ little chat! And he won’t _hurt_ me for that.” Then they look at him again, practically blinding with that smile. “Right, Sans? _Promise_ me you won’t hurt me so that Asriel doesn’t worry?”

“...H-Heh... Wow you’re a piece of work...” Even though Flowey eyed him suspiciously and a bit—nervously, _jeez_ —he gave a light laugh. “Uh. But putting me on the spot with _that_ degree of brazenness... How can a guy say no to that? Whatever gets this along, kid.”

Flowey was now staring at him with wide, wide eyes. He turned to the flower and gave a wink, making Flowey recoil before flittering his gaze back and forth between Sans and Chara. Then, quickly he forced a laugh—even though the giggling sounded almost hysterical.

“If you’re sure, Chara!” he exclaimed with so much forced cheer it could make a guy wince like he was being hit over the head with it. Flowey gave Sans a wink of his own before turning back to them. “There’s nothing to worry about. If anyone could take this guy on when push comes to shove—it’d be _you_. I believe in you.”

“Later, Asriel.” Chara serenely waved goodbye. Still with so much cheer he could have burst open, Flowey returned the wave with his wiggling leaves and then popped under the ground without another word.

Sans, even if he couldn’t see it for himself, was near certain that once underground, that flower moved as fast as it could to get away.

_He._ That flower had the name _Asriel_.

_Asriel. **Chara**._ Unlikely coincidence or not—life had one _hell_ of a sense of humor.

_He hadn’t expected this **at**_ **all** _—this wasn’t even in the **realm**_ _of possibilities he_ had _vaguely considered—_

Thin little arms latched around his own, and they pressed up against him so suddenly that he flinched. Sans, slower than it should have taken, turned to stare down at the kid, clinging onto him with their face buried in his sleeve, with wide eye sockets where the lights were bright, trembling little things.

“I thought he’d never leave,” they murmured softly against the fabric—whispery soft, like they were worried they’d get overheard or something. “He wasn’t too much of a bother, was he? How long were you two _talking_ —how long were you _waiting_ for me, Sans?”

“It, uh, wasn’t long if you’re worried. No skin off my bones—metaphorically speaking.” Then, holding his breath for a moment before letting out a sigh that sounded somewhat pained. “ _Chara_ , huh?”

They giggled to the point they were practically vibrating against him.

“I wanted to formally introduce myself to you on my own!” they exclaimed and their cheerfulness would have been awfully convincing if not for that edge. “To think that _wretched_ plant couldn’t keep its damn mouth **_shut_** —!”

“You can start over,” he said, almost mechanically. “After all, this is _technically_ our first meeting. Might as well turn over a new leaf. I guess.”

They went quiet. His arm was squeezed a little tighter. Then, once he warily glanced down, they were already beaming up at him with bright red-brown eyes and again a smile that could have been _blinding_.

They pulled away completely so that they could hold out their hand, tilting their head with another one of those wide, rosy-cheeked beams.

“Greetings.” They say, light and somehow, it felt like it resounded across the snowy landscape like that door’s creak. “I am Chara. It is good that you’ve waited for me, Sans. You tell me to stay away—but you can’t keep away yourself, can you? How long do you think it’ll take for you to accept that, in spite of all you’ve said and done, a partnership between us is _imminent_?”

“...You were doing so well, kid.” Sans, staring blankly at their hand, simply sighs and turns away without bothering to pull his hands from their place to shake it. “It’d be beyond irresponsible to just leave someone like you to your own devices. There’s really nothing else to it. But, hey, feel free to think what you want—you’re just gonna get disappointed. Whatever.” His voice dropped to a mumble. “It doesn’t mean _anything_ to me.”

Chara hummed, and then tugged back on his sleeve.

“Well, I’ve got all the time in the world to change your mind. But for now, tell you what. We can take things a little easy.” He does glance back at them, guarded yet also vacant as that stare was, and they just wink. “Walk with me— _talk_ with me, alright? I bet you have so many questions—I’ve many answers, for that _burning_ curiosity.”

Those lights flickered. And then that grin simply widened.

“Well, if you _insist_.”


	3. and so it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows this already. Doesn't mean they've fully accepted it though.
> 
> ...wait, what were we talking about? I forgot where I was going with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This is rather awkward.
> 
> Had to skip around a bit for pace's sake and I can only hope it's somewhat serviceable. :/
> 
> Let's see where it goes...?

It goes like this.

Sans knows the story behind the Underground’s first fallen human. Every monster does—and there had been a point where, sometime ago, he used to recite the aptly-named _Undertale_ to a younger Papyrus. “Someday, we’re going to be free,” he used to say, as that was how the tale itself went, even though he really wondered and even though his brother’s eyes would only well up with tears at the tragedy of it all.

Papyrus always clung to him so tight in those times. Sans didn’t ask why—or even if he truly understood the events of their history. Honestly, Sans wasn’t fond of it but he wasn’t surprised by the turn of events. He knows that in Prince Asriel’s position, his own brother would have done the same, practicality be damned. That was just the kind of people they were.

As much as the monsters thrilled for the destruction of humanity as King Asgore declared, Sans casted no resentment towards the events that led to that declaration, nor those involved. He might’ve kept it all at arm’s length like he did with most other things. Impartiality was just how he dealt.

As a judge, that was how it went for him. Observation. Reservation. Maintenance of distance to prevent gratuitous involvement. It made things easier...but it was still a difficult situation.

 _But wouldn’t it understandably always be difficult?_ He wondered while leaning against a pillar in the Judgement Hall, his stare upon the Delta Rune. _How could it ever be_ easy _to_ **DETERMINE** _the objectively best decision even now when the call had seemingly been made long ago?_

But he didn’t resent anyone or anything for how it’s all turned out. It couldn’t be helped. Even though it was so difficult, he wondered why...

_Why even both—_

“...Sans?”

Sans perked up and cast his gaze towards the direction of that low, rumbling voice that also sounded fearfully soft. The king towered over him as always, the lights from the windows casting the harshest of shadows even with that pitifully small, gentle smile.

“You’ve been simply standing there for an awfully long time,” King Asgore mused. “Are your legs sore?”

“By being an _upstanding_ guy?” he asked cheekily. But while the king did chuckle, the joke seemed to sadden him more than anything else. Even now. Even after all this time they’ve been acquainted. Well, it wasn’t that good of a joke anyway. It really couldn’t be helped.

Giving a sigh, Sans simply shrugged his shoulders, leaning more of his weight against the pillars. “I’m fine, your highness. I’m _really_ not the one you should be worried about right now.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Asgore replied, then he widened his smile. “Would you be opposed to a cup of tea with me, Sans?”

Sans smiled back, nodding easily. “Sure thing.”

Asgore’s very presence was brimming with tangible warmth, but it was never enough to burn. Such warmth was likely meant to be comforting—like the warmth from a hearth or from an embrace. But like how Sans never forgot how the fire from a hearth could still blaze and destroy if unrestrained, Sans always kept in mind that this comforting warmth came from one of the most powerful monsters Underground—one who has promised the destruction of many, many lives above.

And, for all that’s been said and done, has in fact _taken_ lives in the past to carry that promise through.

Asgore still offers him a seat so carefully, as though fearful the slightest uncontrolled movement will break him. Asgore, smiling warmly, though Sans sees how he wavers, pours him a cup of tea. Sans sees his reflection in the surface before a golden flower petal placed on top distorts it.

The taste is bittersweet to the point that Papyrus would’ve cried. Sans sipped nonchalantly.

Asgore prepares himself a cup and sits across from him. He stirs his tea, and gives him a wider grin when he notices the blatant staring with focused lights in the dark sockets. Sans grins back.

It’s a calm atmosphere. Something suited for the melodious tune of a piano. Sans thinks about somewhere else where it’s raining, and he casts a quick glance towards the photo the king had set up on the hearth. Of him, the disappeared queen, and their two dead kids.

In that picture, the human’s face couldn’t be seen due to them burying it in a bouquet of flowers, nor the king or queen’s due to their heights—but Prince Asriel’s smile seemed to shine brightly all on its own, even through that faded, sepia tone.

Looking back, he noticed that Asgore’s smile had once again saddened. Other than that, the king drew no attention to his glance at all. That calm atmosphere remained, but wavered.

Sans tilted his head, setting the half-full cup aside, and as he leaned back against his chair, he mused.

“...six souls, huh...?”

Asgore froze, and Sans saw, all too easily, that stricken look on the king’s face—how it slacked into pained resignation after staring for a while at his tea—likely at his reflection in that tea’s surface. Sans, glancing back upwards with the widest and most painful of grins. Lights in his eyes dull and unfocused, he muttered towards above.

“It shouldn’t take too longer now.”

* * *

“Do you know the story of how the first human fell to the Underground?”

“Everyone does, kid. That’s hardly the issue here.”

“If you’re wondering—I did die, back then. It was more painful than anything I’ve ever experienced up until that point and afterwards. Even with you, Sans—with your _brutal_ methods—you never came close to making me _suffer_ the way I did.”

“...”

“That expression on your face! Does that _bother_ you?”

“...kid...let me ask you something.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any idea how many events came to be because of that human’s death? How many of those events were situations that even the old couldn’t _begin_ to comprehend? That on top of all that... All kinds of people died—both humans and monsters—all due to something that was _already_ a tragedy.”

“Hmm.”

“Where were you then, kid? Because the distortions in the timeline, the _RESET_ s, relatively speaking—only happened _recently_. At least, recently to _me_. Was there someone _else_ who dealt with this?”

“Well... I wouldn’t know... For as long as I’ve been conscious—there’s only been you who’s known other than that flower. Why do you think I find you so _interesting_?”

A pause. _And then._

“Unfortunate taste and boredom, maybe?”

Chara laughed. Sans noticed that they had a red ribbon woven through their brown tresses on the back of their head. He knows they probably couldn’t have tied that on their own. He wonders if it was her.

He wonders if it’s _her_ dust on his sleeve from where the kid had latched onto him.

He chuckles a bit, averting his gaze. “If you’re really that lonely, then have you ever thought of just _not_ killing everyone you met instead?”

“Not an option.” They say almost instantaneously. “Not anymore. This is all there is. Soon, you’ll understand. I’ve done this so many times but—with you, I think I can have fun again. It’ll be fun once you understand.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a guy who’d rather not do or understand _anything_.” He muttered a bit darkly, still looking away. “All that’s setting you up for is disappointment. I can’t make that clearer.”

“You’re such a stubborn fellow. But I can relate to that—even if it’s different from what I’m used to dealing with.” Chara does however sigh in spite of those words. “My brother was the complete opposite. I could get him to do _anything_ —until the very end at least. But you being different from Asriel is hardly an issue. If I just wanted a poor substitution for my adorable adopted sibling, I would have settled for that _thing_.”

“The flower?” Sans asks, and he notes the rustling green leaves of the snow-covered trees the two of them pass. “You might break the little bud’s heart if he heard you say that.”

“Flowey doesn’t have a heart to break.” The statement is matter-of-fact as though the kid was only reciting a formula. He does glance back at them—and they’re smiling calmly, eyes shut and chin up. “All he has is the _audacity_ to cling to me, call for me, and cry like Asriel did. But.” Those eyes snapped open as though they felt his stare. Sans retrains that stare, and their smile widens. “He’s not Asriel at all. Not at all. He’s a soulless husk who can’t _feel_ anything.”

 _For something that couldn’t feel, he sure seemed to get really angry back then. And **afraid**. _ Sans thought, narrowing his sockets but still smiling back without a word. _That said, he_ didn’t _have a SOUL, did he? I had a feeling there was something weird about how my magic responded to holding him. Like I was working with a book and not a living being._

“Admittedly I don’t know the details of how that happened—just what he told me.” Chara admitted, rubbing sheepishly at the nape of their neck. They gave him a knowing smile though—but only because he recognized that tick. With a giggle, they went on. “He said himself that he can’t feel. That he doesn’t have a SOUL. That the compassion that _defined_ Asriel is absent in him. That I’m the one who _understands_ him—even though, and he doesn’t ** _understand_** this—just because I understand him doesn’t mean I have to _care_ about him. Or _like_ him. Or want _anything_ to do with him.”

Sans tutted, stopping in place as the kid walked on before also stopping, and staring back at him quizzically for the pause. Sans had his gaze down—his expression difficult to read.

“Sans...?” Chara sounded innocently confused and curious, tilting their head as they asked, “You look like you have a question.”

“Heh.” He chuckled, briefly, but that fizzled quickly. In a low, low tone of voice, he resumed. “Is there a reason you’re telling me all this? Because as much as I appreciate the openness—it’s...also really suspicious.”

“A reason?” they echoed, doe eyes even wider. Then they simply laughed as though the idea was a funny one. “Why would I need a reason? Weren’t you the curious one? Can’t you just appreciate it? Though, since you did ask, I guess my reason would have to be...” Suddenly they trailed off, blinking, back to confused. “...ah. Ah, huh? Why _am_ I...? What _is_...? I...don’t actually _know_? That’s, ah...p-peculiar... It’s very, _very_ peculiar...”

Under Sans’s narrowed glance, Chara seemed frozen, smiling blankly and glassily at their feet and the imprint they’ve made in the snow. The footsteps from where they had been walking. It was only for a moment—but for that moment, they looked very, very lost.

Sans, perking up, spoke up. “If you don’t know, you don’t. There’s really no point in overexerting yourself for an answer.”

“...Yes... That’s right! Yes, that’s right!” They seemed to spring back to life, upbeat and full of cheer. “I _don’t_ know why! I don’t even know why I just spaced out there for _nooo_ reason—my apologies, Sans.” Laughing even giddier into their hands as they tried to warm them up, they went on. “I don’t know what happened there... I really don’t...”

“Eh.” He just shrugged. “Whatever, kid. It’s in the past.”

“...the past...” Their voice was barely over a mumble. “Yes, the past doesn’t matter at all...especially when I can just _undo_ it...”

“Whatever helps you get through, I suppose.” Sans muttered coldly, keeping his stare avoidant even as the lights in his eye sockets flickered towards them for a brief moment. “Even though it’s not like you can just void your memories the way you can with everyone else’s.”

Chara immediately snapped to attention. Sans shut his eye sockets tight, and they’re wondering if they’re imagining that bit of spite in his wide grin.

“Was that wrong?” he asked. “Because that’s just what you _told_ me. Your resets have the capability of wiping all memory from everyone and anyone that isn’t _yourself_. Although maybe that was just you implying so?”

“...No. You’re right. Anything that I _had_ forgot which happened in previous timelines was forgotten naturally.” Sans snorted but Chara went on like he hadn’t. “That said—not much really happened that didn’t happen several times over. Even I fell victim to doing things the exact same way, every single time—reacting the same ways, thinking to myself the same things—perhaps it was boredom too, that eroded the memories that couldn’t be erased with everyone else’s.”

Then, suddenly, that smile on their lips stretched itself wide. “But that was only the case _recently_.” Giggling, they told him. “Now that you remember too, all sorts of new things have happened that didn’t before! It’s incredible! It’s so _liberating_! Imagine—so much more is going to change _with time_ , in ways I don’t even know if I can _predict or guess_! Can you even imagine how that’ll _feel_?”

“It’d be fun.” Sans said, and their eyes lit up, sparkling. “But after a while, it’ll inevitably get boring again. You’ll have exhausted everything and anything new that could potentially occur—and you’ll be right back where you started.”

Chara’s bright expression soured with them giving a heavy sigh, hopping from one foot, shaking the snow from their shoes. “I’m not unaware of that. But what else can I do?”

At his answering, unamused stare, they gave a simple smile in return. But there was a hint of something else. Something that made that small smile a little tense.

“I know it must seem difficult or— _messed up_...” Their features twisted before Chara quickly smiled brightly again, springing back so easily as though they’d always been that way. “But once you realize what those unaware are _really_ like—and all they can _amount_ to when you can so easily undo any mark you’ve made on them—it becomes so _easy_ to indulge in curiosity. And funny, too, seeing them act like all this means something when it **_doesn’t_**. They just don’t understand and I don’t think they ever will, but—you know, Sans, I think you’re different from them.”

“Huh.” He exhaled. “If _you_ say so.”

“Won’t you consider it?” Chara asks sweetly with a tilt of their head. Sans just laughs.

“Asking the same question over and over again and expecting a different answer may just be a sign of insanity, kid. You’re _really_ wasting your time.”

“You can always change your mind.” They point out. “You’re already changing from the guy you used to be. You’ve already killed me way earlier than you were supposed to.”

Sans stiffened. Then, after a while, he relaxed, chuckling lowly.

“I’ve already been through a lot, kiddo. Even before the whole timeline shenanigan business.” He said, slowly and deliberately. “And while I _have_ changed overtime—it hasn’t been by much overall. If you’re seriously expecting a big, dramatic change _now_ , then...”

“No.”

Sans stopped, and stared as though he were quirking a brow. “...No?”

“No.” Chara repeats, smiling serenely back. “I don’t expect a big, _dramatic_ change. I honestly doubt you’ll be that different.”

“...Uh.” He blinked, huffing out a harsh laugh. “ _Really_?”

“You already don’t care about many things.” They say, and then sharper, “You already think that it _doesn’t matter_. You feel trapped and feel like the best you can do is just smile and accept it. Even if you don’t feel like it and even if you don’t really want to accept it—which you don’t. Not really.”

“...Huh...” Sans shrugged and left it at that. Chara, giggling, steps up to him in a few wide strides. Just as they opened their mouth to speak, he cut them off with a question. “So, uh, why _are_ you alive anyway if you really died and that initially stuck?”

“I don’t know!” they exclaimed cheerfully, not even the slightest bit annoyed at his inelegant change of the subject. “The beginnings of my reawakening are actually quite fuzzy, but I’m sure I was confused then as well. Because I did die. I remember how my body deteriorated—and how Asriel absorbed my SOUL...and then how his body _also_ deteriorated after what happened outside the barrier. Even though I begged him to fight back. Even though he didn’t _have_ to die. But...” That cheer faded, and Chara let out a sigh as they rocked back on their heels, rolling their eyes. “Well. There’s no point in regretting what happened when it can’t be changed, either. Just drags you down—makes progress in the present rather difficult.”

Sans was just staring at them blankly with dark, empty eye sockets. Chara, perking up, wondered if that was pity or pique. He only said one thing, and the word was tense and tight, as though that were all he could muster at that moment.

“...Why?”

“Why?” Chara echoed. Then they frowned, confused and rather disappointed. “I shouldn’t have to tell _you_ why it’s important to move on, Sans.”

Sans just shook his head.

“...Oh, that’s not what you meant?”

No answer. But Chara understood.

“So, then...why...what?” They threw up their hands, furrowing their brow. “Surely you’re not asking why I’m _here_ when I should be dead. I told you already that I don’t...” Sans’s pointed stare moved away from their face to their left hand had them trailing off. Their hands were still dusty, and so much of it was stuck in the ends of their sleeves. Chara exhaled an ‘oh’ at the same time Sans clarified.

“Why are you doing _this_?”

“That’s...” Chara clenched their hands into fists, popping joints with a twitch. Their gaze averted from his, lips pulling into a straight line. “That’s right. I’d forgotten. Neither this body nor this SOUL were originally mine. It...had been someone else before. They... _They_? They were also quite DETERMINED.”

“Interesting.” Sans commented, though the tone was cold and flippant. “It also doesn’t answer the question.”

“They made a choice.” Chara went on, unaffected. “They made a choice that trapped them—I as well. There’s nothing other than this. There’s nothing elsewhere. They taught me this and—well. It was certainly... _interesting_.” They stifled a chortle. “Invigorating. You could hurt and hurt and they wouldn’t remember. There was nothing to worry about. Yes, it might have been the slightest bit of upsetting at first—but after you realize...”

“So it’s just all in good fun, huh?” Sans asked, flat and... _vaguely_ amused? Though, really, there was nothing but _spite_ in that smile. “It’s just a game. Nothing wrong with what you’re doing when you can just undo it. It doesn’t even matter if you do it again and again because you could always just RESET and no one would remember or hold what you did—what you’re _doing_ —against you. It must be _great_ being above consequences and concerns.”

“So what are you saying? That it’s wrong? Well, of course you still see it that way. For now.” Chara shrugged, laughing lightly. “At least the memories being erased are bad ones. Would you rather I take _good things_ away from them? How is that _any_ different?”

“It’s different in that no one has a _death_ counter, kid.” He retorted. “No one’s _suffering_ , either.”

“Well...” Chara met his stare evenly. “Except you, right?”

Sans laughed, but quieted when they mimicked him.

“You can’t imagine how this feels.” They even had the low tenor of his voice down pat, as though they’d heard it a million times before. “Knowing that one day, without warning, it’s all going to be reset.” Giving him a smirk, they enunciated. “ _Regardless_ of what happens, even if we get to the surface, we'll just end up back here without any memory of it, right? To be blunt, it makes it kind of hard to give it my all.” Prodding his sternum with their finger, they asked, in the sharpest, sweetest syllables. “Or was that just _your_ poor excuse for being _lazy_?”

Sans stared back and then he huffed. “So I went on like that in a previous timeline, huh? Well, that hardly matters. The point remains.”

“Now that you _do_ remember, those feelings are only going to get worse, Sans.” They told him, straight to the point. “It’s not healthy bottling that much up—or having that much to bury in the first place.” Tugging on his jacket, they asked, inquisitively and simply. “Why be concerned about what _can_ be undone when _that_ won’t go away?”

“...It hardly matters...” he repeated, but even the answer sounded dulled like the repetition from a broken record. Even his usual smile was faded.

Chara frowned at him. “I feel sorry for you.” They released him, but patted his shoulder. It could have been a pitying gesture. It could have been comforting. “There really is no getting through to you the way you are now. But I can wait for the timelines to diminish your resolve.”

Sans didn’t say anything in response. They smiled up at him.

“You really should just give in though. Isn’t giving up your usual course of action?” Pushing harder, they added. “It’s not like anyone’s going to appreciate your _efforts_. So, why don’t you just...?”

A shout cut that question short, but Chara’s stilled as Sans seemed to snap out of his daze upon recognizing the voice.

“SAAAAANS!!!”

Sans spun around to the direction it came from. And though Chara couldn’t see his expression, they do see how his shoulders seize up, how his posture, stiff and rigid spoke for how on edge he had to be.

“P...Papyrus...” It was like he tried to relax but couldn’t. Chara merely stayed ‘hidden’ behind his back, their gaze flickering to peer coldly past his arm at the approaching figure.

“What are you DOING standing around here?!” Papyrus demanded angrily, though it was one clearly born from worry. “This isn’t your station! This isn’t even where any of the puzzles are supposed to be set up!”

“I... I said I was going to meet up with you at _your_ station, Papyrus.” Sans said, slowly and tensely. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“You can’t just avoid the question by repeating it, Sans! I won’t have it! You’ve been acting strange as of this morning—” Sans sighed to which his brother immediately reacted. “Don’t groan! Nor make jokes! This is a serious concern! Sans, I know you never tell anyone anything but I really wish that for once you’d _just_...”

Chara’s fingers dug into his jacket and gave a small tug. Sans flinched. Papyrus trailed off, and only displayed worry. But he didn’t notice them. He was focused only on Sans. Even though he _asked_...

“...Sans?? Is something strange behind you?”

 ** _“Back off.”_** Sans muttered to them in a lower than whispered _growl_. He barely glanced at them, but the minimal movement he did do followed by that inaudible mutter as far as Papyrus was concerned, did have Papyrus perk up.

“What was that?”

Still, he didn’t notice them. Even though Sans _did_ answer his inquiry directly this time.

“It’s a human. Probably.” He didn’t miss a beat, turning back with his wide grin like it never left or faltered. “That’s why I’m out here. I found one. Surprise.”

“That IS a surprise!!” Papyrus exclaimed in awe though his gaze narrowed. “I mean, your behavior is STILL worrying, so this conversation is far from over but-!” He reached out, grabbing his arm and pulling him from Chara’s grasp. Papyrus _never_ noticed them, not even now with their widened eyes and outstretched, twitching fingers from where they had been buried in the jacket, with how _focused_ he was on Sans. “We can talk over readying the puzzles! If there is indeed a human, we must HURRY, Sans!”

“Sure thing, bro.” Sans responded, nodding. Papyrus hurriedly pulled him away, babbling about plans for capture and leaving the kid in the dust so to speak.

But not before Sans gave them one last glare and let himself be pulled closer by his brother’s arm.

“...Huh...” Chara, flexing their fingers, pulled their hands back, wiping them off their sweater before going right back to rubbing them together to warm them up. Huffing into their hands, they stared from where the two brothers departed, remembering how close they had walked together. How close Papyrus kept him.

Like he was worried about Sans slipping away if he didn’t.

_“Oh...”_

A silent means of support. But it still _meant_ something.

_“You’ve fallen down haven’t you...?”_

**_Asriel_** supported them in a similar manner after they met for the first time.

Chara, stare darkening, clenched their hands tightly to the point their fingernails bit little crescents into their palms. Then, huffing out a laugh, Chara trailed after them, overlapping their footprints with their own.

There was something heavy they had to swallow down—but like with everything, Chara forced whatever it was down with a bright smile.

* * *

They passed quite a few monsters from here to there. Sans eyed each one, the corners of his smile turning down as he counted each one to mentally calculate the potential EXP and LV the kid would gain. Papyrus greeted a few of them and while they returned his greetings, they also threw quite a few hellos towards Sans. Sans could only give them half-hearted waves and far too tired chuckles. Though he did toss Snowy an ‘ _ice_ day out, isn’t it’, to the teen’s delight.

Papyrus didn’t even groan. He just looked at him oddly.

Sans stayed quiet after that. Papyrus didn’t say anything either—even though it look like he wanted to.

It wasn’t until they were almost at one of the clearings where the maze was set up that the two brothers stopped. Or rather, Papyrus stopped so Sans stilled too. They stood there—or rather Papyrus forced himself to stand there, only sneaking quick glances at Sans, who just remained still with his hands in his pockets, head ducked, and smiling tiredly down at the ground like he was trying to be mindful.

Sans was quiet. If not for the occasional visible puff of air from his smile every now and then, he wouldn’t have seemed—

“ _SANS_.” Papyrus spoke up louder than he intended—but it was hardly a surprise. It was weirder how nervous he felt, how that only seemed to build in the longer than usual time it took for Sans to perk up and turn to him.

“Something wrong, bro?” There were a few more visible puffs as he asked. Papyrus puffed up his chest.

“I should be the one asking that! You really are acting quite _strange_!!”

Sans just shrugged.

“There _is_ something wrong, isn’t there?” Papyrus asked and after Sans just stiffened with no vocal response, he sighed. “And...you’re not going to tell me anything...”

“Nope.” Sans said simply, though he still had that weird look in his eyes like he wanted to say _something_. Papyrus thought about pressing him, but Sans went on the way he always did. “I really wouldn’t worry about this _now_ , Papyrus. The human should be here in a bit. Probably.”

 _Depending on how long it takes them to kill everyone on the way here... **Everyone** , huh? _Sans rubbed his sleeve against his jacket, noting that there was _still_ a bit of dust on it. _Everyone. Every single time. Again and **again**. And I’m just _ letting _them—_

“Will the human arrive soon?” Papyrus asked with an innocent curiosity even as worried eyes stayed on Sans. Sans, blinking back at him, shrugged again.

“...Probably?”

“Well, if nothing else, I do want to look good for them! Sunday Best or at least Tuesday Pretty Good.” His brother rattled on. “Or! Maybe I could style my hair! Sans, what do you think?”

“It’s a good idea.” Sans responded easily. “Either way...”

_It’s all the same. Even the kid’s sick of that, huh? But they’re not going to stop. And there’s really no stopping them either._

Papyrus was staring at him again, blinking confusedly. “Either way what?”

“Either way...” Sans shook the snow from his slippers. “Good idea.”

Still confused. “...Huh?”

“Either way it’s a good idea, bro.”

“ _Huh_?? **_OH_**.” He got it now. Sans could pat himself on the back. Though Papyrus was considerably and understandably less impressed with his quick thinking. “Why didn’t you word it that way in the _first_ place?”

“Eh.” Sans brushed it off either way. There was a light breeze as he looked back, and he only blinked once before the lights in his sockets immediately went out.

The kid was shuffling their way up the pathway behind them, arms swinging, and one hand tightly gripping onto that plastic toy knife. Even from this far away, he could see the dust.

He could kill them on the spot. It wouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t matter.

_Except._

“Sans!!” Papyrus exclaimed, shaking his shoulder either to get his attention or in his own excitement. He loudly whispered as though it could have been either one if not both. “What _is_ that?! Is— _that_ the human?!”

There wasn’t a rock in sight on this path. He couldn’t put this off no matter how badly he wanted to. He wanted to. So badly.

“Yeah...” he answered, giving a tight, terse nod. “ _Behold_.”

* * *

“HUMAN!!” Papyrus was shouting and pointing at them in a way that was fairly overdramatic. “PREPARE YOURSELF!!”

Meanwhile Sans was just standing idly by his brother’s side, expressionlessly staring at them making their way towards him. Usual posture—hunched shoulders, mitted hands in pockets, smiling as always—though the sharpness in contrast to the usual was all the more blatant compared to...

“FOR HIJINKS!! LOWJINKS!!”

Papyrus was rattling off that usual list without a care.

“DANGERS! PUZZLES!”

Unaffected for _now_ by them just walking while he talks.

“CAPERS! JAPERS!”

Well, whatever.

“Being CAPTURED among other FUN activities!!”

They were in a hurry to get this over with.

“So! Refreshments will be provided if you...” Papyrus trailed off, probably finally realizing that the human was right in front of him. Standing before him and Sans with nothing more than a creepy, empty smile. “Um...?” While Sans didn’t take his mirroring gaze off of them, Papyrus quickly cleared his throat with a bit of a stammer. “W-Wowie! You must be very _eager_ , human!! Maybe—you’re really passionate about puzzles or—”

Chara brushed past him like a breeze, making him immediately flinch from the shocking coldness of it.

“ _Uh_.” Papyrus took a moment to regain himself, only really snapping out of it when he felt Sans place an hand on his arm. Realizing, he quickly hurried to turn around and shout after the human. “WAIT!!”

Step. Step. Step.

“H-Human!! I know you’re very EAGER but that’s actually supposed to be a maze!! So! So... _uh_...??”

They were already half through.

“Look, can you turn back so we can do this over?! M-Maybe this isn’t the case for you, but see, _our_ family tradition dictates that—”

Chara stopped once they were past the ‘maze’, and turned back, flashing the flustered Papyrus a bright smile. He had absolutely no idea how to feel about that.

The human only said one thing, and they were surprisingly cheerful about it in spite of everything.

“I don’t care.”

With that, they left without another word and only a vague sort of wave.

It was...definitely a bit of a shock for Papyrus, even when his brother hardly seemed surprised at all. Even though there was something vaguely different about his default expression. After a while, Sans did speak up.

“Wow.” He said, simply and flatly. “That was just _rude_.” At Papyrus’s look of utter dismay, he went on. “Eh. Maybe they’re just not in the mood. Or weird.” Staring back where the kid was before, his voice dropped to a low, dark murmur. “Or maybe they just aren’t _good_ at playing along with others.”

“...We couldn’t have gotten a human that actually _does_ care about puzzles, huh?” Papyrus wondered dully, but quickly sprung back up, putting his fist to his chest. “But this doesn’t mean we should fall behind! In fact, we should return that lack of enthusiasm with unrelenting and undying gusto!” Optimistically, he added. “Maybe _that’s_ all the human needs to get over their weird need to just hurry along!”

In better times, Sans would have believed that. With only a smile and a chuckle, he took Papyrus’s arm and gave a tug.

“We’re gonna need to take a shortcut then.”

* * *

It goes about the same after this.

The brothers did get there before Chara did. They’re hardly surprised—one look at Sans’s strained grin and they could easily guess how that came to be. It matters about the same.

Papyrus trying to yell something about being prepared—stopping when he realized the puzzle here was nothing more than a paper on the ground. Getting angrier when Chara passed that paper by with only a brief glance.

About the same. Though they hadn’t looked at the word search last time at all, and Sans seemed to notice that. But despite pondering that, he still spills the same line about Junior Jumble being the choice he should have gone with. Papyrus readily agreed, striding ahead in a considerably better mood while Sans fondly stared after him with a chuckle.

The same.

Though Sans did drop that semblance of genuine cheer when they approached him, staring up at him unreadably—with him not even bothering to return their stare, but asking anyway.

“Have you ever _actually_ looked at that word search before, kid?”

“I have.” They said simply. “It’s unsolvable.” Lightly, they added. “How utterly diabolical of you, Sans.”

“...Heh.” He chuckled. “Heheh. _Really_?” In an instant that smile dropped with nothing more than a dark, dark glare. “That’s just **_h i l a r i o u s_** coming from _you_.”

He was gone in the next blink.

It amounted to the same—he was still by his brother’s side when Chara reached the series of grayed tiles after cutting down everyone possible in their path at this point.

Every single one. Every single time.

Flowey had taken care of all other ‘puzzles’ in-between as per usual—but Chara knew he was keeping more of an eye on them compared to previous times. Especially whenever they approached Sans in particular. It’s understandable he’d be so curious. Perhaps he was also worried, be it for “their sake” or—something else.

Still, that mattered even less, being concerned with the feelings of an _unfeeling_ flower.

Either way.

Papyrus and Sans are talking about japes. But they know Sans has skipped a bit of the script—notably the initial back-and-forth. Papyrus still responds about the same. Papyrus still asks them if they prefer japes to puzzles—the wording is a bit different here, but they respond the exact same way: with nothing but silence—and Papyrus, though visibly deflating, still kindly offers to leave out the unreadable manual for the puzzle for them to solve on their own time.

Not like they could anyway, with that broken machine.

This time, though, Sans doesn’t stay behind—he follows after Papyrus, and his suggestion to play along that _—“It might actually be fun_ **if you just _try_** _.”—_ has an edge to it. He only gives them a brief, hard glance as he says that.

It really shouldn’t matter. Sans really is just delaying at this point. It’s ironically tedious—but hardly a surprise. Chara isn’t too bothered, either. They’ve accumulated a remarkable amount of patience when it comes to repeating events.

Even as Chara still glared whenever Flowey popped out of sight behind them. But that smile was easy enough to click back into place.

* * *

By the time they reached the painted over stone bridge, everyone else between here and there was dead and Chara picked at the dust stuck behind their nails with the toy knife. They hardly paid attention to the ‘Gauntlet of Deadly Terror’ around them.

Papyrus is still prattling. There’s even less of a reason to take notice when they know that regardless of their enthusiasm, the challenge won’t be activated. He says he will—but he won’t. Sans didn’t even have to repeat this experience to know that’d be the case. It really is just one big waste of time.

Even Papyrus finally recognizes the pattern at this point. That it really is just...

“It’s _POINTLESS_!!” Papyrus exclaims and then adds, with a heavy sigh. “Maybe you were right to be lazy about puzzles.”

Chara wants so badly to laugh. They almost do when they snort into their hand.

But Sans, even as he laughs too, responds with the exact same words.

“Me? Right about something?” He sounds like he believes it even less than before. He always uses such a light, fond tone when it comes to his idiotic brother—but Chara knows that edge in his voice _now_ is one that’s usually reserved for them. “ _Really_?”

_“No, no, you’re right—”_

Papyrus perks right back up, immediately laughing those doubts off. “Yeah, what am I even _saying_?!”

_“I’d never doubt you—“_

“You’re still COMPLELETLY wrong!!” he says it like it’s just that simple. Like it’s just that, “I just have the wrong audience—”

He always says afterwards that it’s a valuable life lesson—but Chara really _wonders_ about that. If he really _understands_.

Sans responded to him like it’s all perfectly understandable. Like he _understands_ his idiotic brother perfectly. Like it’s just that **_simple_**.

Like it’s just that simple.

_“I can’t make that clearer.”_

It’s really, really kind of frustrating.

Sans _still_ immediately follows after him—and Chara wants to scream.

* * *

So it goes like this.

Chara is going to kill him.

He shouts at them to halt. They take another step forward.

He demands they stop moving while he’s talking. They take another.

He calls them weird. Says they shamble from place to place. He notes the dust—but refers to it as powder. He says it feels like their life is going down a...dangerous path. That if they _keep going the way they are_ —

**_“If you take another step forward, you’re REALLY not going to like what happens next.”_ **

He’s rattling off that nonsense again. He’s laughing—and it’s so obviously _forced_.

Chara steps closer and closer.

“...I think you’re in need of guidance...!”

He’s trying so hard to convince them. But had they ever faltered? They can’t remember.

They don’t really care either.

They’re going to kill him.

It’ll go by fast. Even while bracing himself as he offers open arms, it only takes one hit. Just one.

Just one and he’ll be dust. This time they’ll crush his skull before he can prattle any further.

 _Look at this, Sans._ Chara thinks. They’re already pulling out that toy knife—they were in such a hurry they didn’t even switch out equipment—and they’re already lunging forward. It’ll only take one hit. _Look, look, **look** —see how easy this—_

They swing, slashing through and gooey **_red_** splatters everywhere.

_...is??_

And those thoughts stutter to a stop as their eyes go wide and register that the figure standing directly before them is not Papyrus’s form crumbling to dust. The red is all over their fingers, spattered onto the white snow—it’s _seeping_ from that gash through the shirt’s cottony white and jacket’s blue.

Chara blinks. Once. Twice.

**_S a n s . . . ?_ **

“ ** _SANS_**!!”

Papyrus. Right. Sans had blocked the blow meant for his brother.

 _And for_ what _?_

Papyrus was already scrambling to gather him into his arms. Sans curled his own arms around himself, clutching where he’d been cut through like before. But where Sans only groans at most in resignation, Papyrus is nothing but hysterical, murmuring a continuous slur of “Sans” and “no” with the occasional “please” among other things.

**_“Please... Wake up... I don’t like this plan anymore—”_ **

 “This isn’t funny—it’s not—please, Sans, _please_ —” Papyrus sobbed, shaking his head fervently, clutching his brother tighter like that’d just fix him. Like it’d hold him together when that red was still getting _everywhere_ —it was even dripping from the end of his coat. It was even smearing against that ridiculous outfit. “What were you thinking—what were you even **_thinking_**...?”

Chara watches as Sans sighs. As Sans widens his broken, dripping-with- ** _red_** smile, he takes his sharp gaze away from them to try and meet his brother’s tearful stare. He wipes those tear tracks away best he could with his mitted hands— _without smearing the red_ —and with that cheeky grin, he simply albeit weakly titters.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll...do better next time, okay, Paps?” He digs his grip into that red scarf, giving a stern but also so slight tug. “You have to get out of here.”

“ _No_!” Papyrus grasps his hand immediately, shaking so, _so_ badly. That probably made Sans disintegrate faster. Probably.

They couldn’t really tell, even with how fixating the sight was. They couldn’t really focus on anything but that _red_.

But Sans is pleading. Papyrus is still refusing to budge, like he’ll fall apart himself if he tries to stand. It’s like an overly dramatic death scene in a movie. Papyrus is crying. Sans is dying.

Chara blinks. And then as they start to see Sans’s smile fall to _pieces_ —they shut their eyes tight.

Papyrus cries and cries and cries—he begs, _begs_ , **_begs_** —

But when Chara opens their eyes again, all he’s clutching to himself and crying over is a worn, dusty coat stained in so much _red_.

“Sans...” His breath hitches, voice trembling as he hiccups out a sob. “ _Sans_...”

“You should be smiling.” Chara says, because he isn’t smiling at all. He’s still crying over that coat, inconsolable. Chara’s voice rose. “Isn’t this _something_? Isn’t it **_exciting_**?”

**_It’s new, it’s_ new _—it’s never happened before even though it was long_ overdue _—_**

“Hey, stop that.” They say, lighter and fonder. “Big kids don’t _cry_.”

Papyrus does, so very slowly, so very shakily, look up at them with a wide, so very watery gaze. He’s still holding onto that coat like it’s a lifeline—like it’ll still _protect him_. Chara imagines his SOUL— _so much like a **heart**_ —hammering against that coat. Beating and beating. Trying to beat _its way out_.

Chara giggles. He flinches.

But he doesn’t run away. He still tries to talk to them. But his voice is shaking _so_ badly and his bones are rattling _so much_ that they can’t make out what he’s saying.

He _is_ trying to smile. They can tell that much. For his efforts, they slice his pitifully smiling head clean off.

Afterwards, he’s crushed in a heartbeat.

Chara grinds the dust and snow under their foot, giggles causing their shoulders to shake, stare boring down on the tattered red scarf now peeking from behind the crumpled coat on the ground. Red. More red. All muffled by the blue.

Chara laughs, finding it funny—there were _so many jokes_ to make out of it—and as their laughter grew more and more strained, they also thought about how _frustrating_ this situation was as well. It was frustrating enough to scream and scream and—

They might have actually screamed. Did they? They’re not sure. They probably did. They must have. Their throat hurt. Their fingers were still twitching, still stained with dust-clumped red. They felt a little light-headed. They must have screamed.

Chara took a deep breath, and with resolve, they moved on.

Despite everything, they’re this far. They might as well fight Undyne before resetting. After that, there’s no point.

No point.

* * *

“Really, Chara? You were more than _halfway through_.”

Flowey was irritatingly _irritated_. That much was obvious, even with that saccharine little smile—even before it turned sharp. Chara blankly smiled back and shrugged.

“Well, do what you want, I guess,” he sighed, closing one eye. “I’ll be waiting all the same, but...actually there is something a bit off going on. Something that _smells_ off too.”

Chara laughs, but they immediately perk up. Flowey goes on.

“It’s just! I’ve killed Papyrus a good number of times and his garbage brother never stepped in once!” It was all exclaimed so innocently like Flowey wasn’t implying a thing. “Do you have any idea how much it’d _usually_ take for that lazy bag of trash to get off his bony butt and actually _do_ something about me? _Well_...!”

“Have you killed Sans before?” they ask without change to their expression. Flowey twitched, leaves rustling, petals quivering—with thinly-veiled resentment.

“I could get past him easily! But even with that—he caused so many resets, Chara! So many! I don’t understand it!” Flowey ranted, infuriated and seething. “And what’s worse is how he’d always, always, _always_ act! Always with that smile! Always with those stupid skeleton jokes! Always seeming to just somehow _know_ even when I tried so hard to keep him out of the loop! It’s so creepy!”

“Guess you could say he was quite the _thorn_ in your side, Asriel.” Chara giggled, widening their grin. Flowey pouted adorably at them. “Hehehe. My apologies—I simply had to.”

_...had to..._

“...but...you know, Asriel...” Flowey perked up, curious with wide eyes. Their smile tightened. “Had I continued—I think that killing everyone would have been a cakewalk. It would have been so easy I didn’t have to think—and where would the fun be in that?”

“I... I understand!” he exclaimed, forcing a bright, bright smile. “That makes sense! Haha—I know how that feels—it’s so boring once it’s _easy_! Besides, even if I don’t like him, I do have to admit that the smiley trash bag is at least _behaving_ interestingly! Something’s definitely changed about him! I don’t know what to expect from that guy anymore! He...He even remembers...!” Then, suddenly, that excitement dissolved into pure confusion. “ _How_...? How does he _remember_?”

Flowey looked at them suddenly, putting the pieces together, and smilingly, lowly, Chara asks—“Do you **_doubt_** me, Asriel?”

“No, I don’t!” He immediately denied, switching to Asriel’s pleading face. So **_desperate_**. So _eager_ to placate. Chara’s smile darkened as he insisted. “I’d never doubt you, Chara! Never ever! I swear! I... It doesn’t matter! It really doesn’t! Never mind that!” That forced smile again, only this time on their brother’s pitiful face. “I...believe in you...so...”

“It’s fine, Asriel.” They say simply and easily. “I didn’t mean to trouble you so with that question.”

“You didn’t!” He chirped like it’s just matter-of-fact. “It’s really nothing, Chara!”

_Nothing, huh?_

Chara giggled. “I’ll see you later then. In the meantime, I’m going to see all that Sans is capable of. Okay?”

“O...Okay...” The flower nodded fervently. That face of their adopted sibling shifted back to Flowey’s cutesy, cheerful smile. “Okay! Even if that’s not much, it’s still something, right?”

“...Right.” They nodded back. “I’ll see you later, Asriel.”

“Mm! Later, Chara!”

Flowey popped back into the earth after they waved each other goodbye, both giggling as they did—but as soon as that flower was out of the way, Chara stepped further. Their shoes dug into the ground and for a second, the green blurred into red and they began to shake—a scream building up in their throat—

“Oh.” A warm, delicately-toned voice spoke up, immediately grasping their attention once they recognized it. “Are you alright, my child?”

She towered over them as always—but always while exuding comfort and home. As always, she’s giving them a gentle smile, even as vague, curious recognition sparked in her somewhat sad gaze. Chara can only think of how that curious recognition looks as horrified realization—as that tender smile twists into something bitter and _hysterical_.

Chara can’t even smile up at her, but they do think, with a tinge of humor...

**_I’m_ really _not the one you should be worried about right now._**


	4. catch your breath; just move on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking it easy every so often can be pretty great. Just stopping what you're doing, telling a few bad jokes, but having a few good laughs...
> 
> It's good to see Sans is still doing so well, even if he cracks every now and then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took considerably longer to write than the previous parts and *comparatively* speaking, it's on the shorter side. Mmgh. Even if I had to cut it *COMPARATIVELY* short because otherwise it'd be WAAAAY too long. I'm just being practical...not...lazy...
> 
> Sorry if I don't have much if anything to say in these notes. But!! I'm having a lot of fun writing this and the comments, kudos, and bookmarks make it so, so much better! Now I *really* can't wait until I get to the real meat of this! This chapter's a bit of a breather as is a bit of the next.
> 
> No one even dies. Yaaaaaaay. Look at this wholesome non-murdery bonding. We'll live up to that adorable title someday. Patience is the key. *q*

The first time he ‘died’ as far as he recalled, it really hadn’t mattered to him at all. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit disappointed— _emotions were such funny impulses at times_ —but he had already known there was a sort of inevitability to it. He’d known from the second he saw the kid’s face that he was going to die. That is—the second he saw the kid’s face in his ‘earliest’ memory of watching them approach him in the Judgement Hall.

He didn’t remember any of the many deaths before but he knew they happened. He knew that kid probably killed him more times than he could count. So _then_ , he wondered, what exactly was the point and why did any of this _matter_? Well. It’s not like he hadn’t wondered that for a lot of things.

Most things, in fact. To the kid’s credit, they hadn’t been wrong about that. He still hadn’t wanted to hear it—but they weren’t _wrong_. Not really. Not from a certain point of view. But that was the case for a lot of people whose perspectives and ideas he still disagreed with—even if ‘disagreement’ was putting his relationship with that kid a bit...mildly, to say the least.

Either way. He knew the kid killed him. Many times. Many, many times to the point that—in that moment, during that hopeless fight he still danced along with like a puppet on strings—he wondered, not for the first and maybe not even for the last time— ** _what’s the point?_**

The question wasn’t just meant for him—it was also meant for them. He doubted they had any more of an answer than what he could come up with either jokingly or seriously or somewhere in-between where he wasn’t sure but shrugging his shoulders along anyway. But he still wondered. Somewhere, deep down, he might have even wanted to ask them for the hell of it. He did ask, to an extent.

Curiosity’s a funny thing. But he thought that it wouldn’t hurt to ask so hey, why not? Of course, he probably in fact asked the kid before—and maybe a previous Sans actually had the energy to dig for the details— _he seriously doubted that but it was possible all the same_ —but **_it didn’t matter_** either way. If it did, if it really, _really_ did, then a later Sans could get to the bottom of it. It didn’t _have_ to be him—he was just another Sans that was going to die, with or without any semblance of an answer.

What did it matter, right?

He was going to die regardless.

_He was fine with that._

He wasn’t going to remember anyway, right?

_He was—_

...completely, surprisingly, and startlingly **_wrong_** about that.

Deep down, he might have hoped that dying that first time would put an end to remembering. He had a feeling that, even with how abnormal and unnatural it all was—that was how it was _supposed_ to be. Once he died, that’d be the end of it both to him and to any memories associated with the timeline in which he lived up to that point. With that feeling—that mustered up hope—dying really hadn’t seemed _that_ bad. It didn’t matter, right?

Despite everything, it still hurt though.

**_But..._ **

It’s...a bit surprising that the second time hurt so much _more_.

* * *

There’s a spring digging into his spine and he hardly notices because of how much it _burns_ . It’s supposed to be nothing— _the ribcage he ran his mittened fingers over was smooth, untouched, and as_ **brittle** _as ever_ —but it still burns. He still feels like he’s crumbling to the point his forehead feels clammy as he clutches tightly on where it _feels_ like it’s burning.

There’s nothing there. But if there was, he’s intimately aware of where it’d be _exactly_. Lowest right rib to left clavicle in a long, diagonal gash. His sternum, nearly sliced in half, had started disintegrating into dust first, and then the sensation spread outwards like an expanding void where his fracturing soul lingered at the core. But if he kept standing, it wouldn’t feel too much like he was literally falling to pieces. He could almost walk it off, if he really wanted to.

When Papyrus held onto him, he couldn’t pretend that’d be the case at all. He only smiled because he had no idea what else to do. His head had been rushing with all sorts of thoughts—but they all boiled down to roughly the same thing. That he was dying, messily and horribly, and that deteriorating body of his was what his brother clung onto as though it were a lifeline.

Papyrus was holding onto him so tightly. It hurt. He couldn’t distinguish which pain was which but all the same it _hurt_. Dying hurt, being held hurt, the look on his brother’s face hurt, hurt, _hurt_ —

He really kind of messed up there, honestly. He should have gotten his brother out of there—should have done that _first thing_. What good ever came from careless impulse over careful planning? He really should know better, but...

**_“That look on your face—”_ **

He’d never seen Papyrus look like that before. Was that _really_ the face his brother would make in the situation where he died first? How _would_ Papyrus deal with something like that anyway?

The thought used to be too worrying to entertain for even the shortest of moments. It’s why he was— _is still_ here. Always for his brother’s sake. Always to protect that bright smile of his that had always been the closest thing Sans had to the sun down here. Or anywhere, really. As long as Papyrus was happy, that was all that mattered. And it—

It really hurt. He curled on his side, rubbing his hand against where the memory of a now non-existent wound lingered, and took deep breaths. Focused on other things that _did_ matter.

Papyrus was downstairs. Morning routine like always. The annoying dog was in their sink again. Papyrus shouted at it.

“...Heh...”

Papyrus really sounded angry.

“...Heheh...”

Sans was so exhausted.

“...Sans, you lazybones!! Are you still _NAPPING_?!”

The nothing throbbed, and Sans could only clutch at it, take deep breaths, deep breaths— _you’re still here, you’re still alive, you’re still here, still_ here _, **still** —why... **why am I**_ **still** _—_

Papyrus slammed the door open, “ _SANS_!!”

Sans didn’t see how that bright smile immediately fell to pieces at seeing his brother’s sorry state. Still curled up, still clutching at his shirt at nothing. Honestly it could have just been a weird new napping position, Papyrus wouldn’t **_know_** , right?

Papyrus froze up, although not really _knowing_ why.

Sans slowly, so very sluggishly perked up, and the lights in his eyes were faded as he widened his dull, dreary smile. “Uh, heya, bro.”

He pushed himself up with a groan, popping his joints—Papyrus always hated it when he did that, but Papyrus didn’t say a word about it now—and stifled a yawn against his palm. One hand never left his chest. Blinking blearily, Sans met his brother’s wide-eyed gaze, and somehow, Papyrus finally managed to snap out of his confusing daze.

“...Sans.” he says, and it’s more like ascertaining. Sans just blinks again and waves.

“Sup, bro? You, uh...” He lazily scans the stiff posture with a hum. “You’re looking _weirdly_ on edge. Did something happen? Any weird news or...?”

“No, it’s nothing!” Papyrus answers immediately, though he then hesitates. “At least, I think it’s nothing?”

“...Huh.” Sans shrugs. “Uh. Kay.”

“Well, it might be something!” Papyrus suddenly points out, just as quick. “I just don’t know yet! Do you ever get that feeling, Sans?”

_...feeling?_

“ _Feeling_?” he repeats dumbly. All while he grips the fabric of his shirt. And Papyrus notices. Sans, looking down, doesn’t notice that he does, voice dropping to a dull mumble. “You’re...going to have to be more speci—”

Papyrus crosses the room and stands closely before him with a surprisingly intense stare. Sans, perking up and feeling himself sweat, too.

“Is everything alright, Papyrus?” he asks, all the same.

He kind of knows what’s coming. But he still responds with the same wince, partially in part due to the still lingering phantom pain. But, he likes to think he’s quicker to ease himself when his brother wraps his arms around him, and pulls him into a tight— _tighter than usual_ —embrace.

Then those arms began to tremble, just the slightest bit, and that was enough to get Sans to flinch.

 _This is..._ He forced himself to relax—to return the embrace. It was so easy to get Papyrus calm if he just went with it. It was so, _so_ easy. But, still... _This is something._

And he really wasn’t sure what it was yet. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He probably didn’t.

“...Um...” He holds tight, because he’s not sure what else to do. “Papyrus, I’m... I’m fine? If you’re here, everything’s...fine...”

“You’ve said that before.” Papyrus says, and then he sighs with the slightest of laughs shaking his tone. “I just—I don’t really know. I think it’s... Intuition or something, right? Was that what you said?”

Sans, seizing up for a bit but relaxing again with a few chuckles, asks in a low murmur. “Did I? I don’t recall that _happening_. When was that, bro? Can you tell me?”

“Of course! I was OBVIOUSLY back when...uh.” Papyrus paused. “That’s...weird. I don’t remember either.” Quieter, less certain, he suggested, “Maybe I just imagined it?”

“Probably.” Sans said easily, and he buries his face in that red scarf, exhaling a deep sigh of his own. “It’s best just not to worry about it. It doesn’t matter. Alright, Papyrus?”

“I...suppose.” Even with that hesitation, it was far too easy to get Papyrus agreeing with him. Sans, if nothing else, tried not to think too much past that. Deep down, a part of him apologized regardless, especially as Papyrus moved to scoop him up in the air as he tended to whenever trying to play off his worry. “Well, on that note, I actually do have a strong feeling about today, Sans! Like something— _significant_ is going to happen today!”

As Papyrus gave that trademark laugh of his, Sans clung and pretended not to notice that tightening grip as though his brother was especially concerned about him falling. He just rested his head against the other’s shoulder, and would have drifted to sleep if his head wasn’t still in such a whirl. And if his chest wasn’t still throbbing, especially as Papyrus’s hold gave a brief but ascertaining squeeze.

Papyrus didn’t even seem to be talking directly to him despite chattering on. He was just talking. Sans still nodded and grunted when it seemed appropriate as he was carried off. With each step his brother took, to his relief, it began to hurt a little less.

* * *

For Papyrus’s sake, he follows the script as closely as he can before they part to head to their respective stations. It helps ease his brother back in, he notices. Even without the vivid memories, the impacts or lingering imprints of previous timelines can and do bleed into the next. He’s known that for a while now, has recorded it as well just in case. It never seemed to amount to much, so he usually didn’t worry about anyone remembering anything that technically didn’t happen, but...

Well. It was easier just to play along. Less worrying, as a bonus. It helped even if just a little.

Papyrus is right back to acting as though it’s just another day in no time. As far as he’s concerned, there’s no disturbance in the timeline whatsoever. It just is what it is—and he has no real idea. That’s just fine.

Sans thinks about the kid as Papyrus rattles off, himself just following and responding as he’s supposed to. He thinks about how he really can’t be sure how they’ll act towards him this time. They might be angry—they might just laugh it off. They might try to kill him on the spot. Sans wonders if he should try and do the same.

He both kind of wants to and kind of really _doesn’t_ want to. He could though.

He’s not supposed to but he could. The kid pointed that out already, albeit worded slightly differently—and a lot more maliciously. He could. He had.

He didn’t mind it nearly as much as he should have.

It didn’t matter though, right? The kid could just reset anyway. It wouldn’t stick regardless of when. Sooner. Later. Now. Never. They’d just reset regardless whichever one it was. Could he really be bothered to _care_ in that case?

He should. He knows he should. He knows...

“Sans?” Papyrus called out, stopping in front of him. The red scarf billowed behind him as he looked curiously and suspiciously back, meeting his brother’s tired, tired gaze and smile. “Are you listening?”

He just laughs. “No, not really. I’m sorry, Papyrus.”

_I’m really, **really** sorry._

* * *

Papyrus didn’t know. No longer suspected— _probably_ —and that was fine. Sans kept his head ducked as he headed for the door, soul pulsing, and smile stiff. The cold air whistled, and he stood before the entrance.

Taking a deep breath, he waited and waited. Standing, sitting, laying against the door, tucked away in the bushes, even back at his station—finally, there was that resounding _creak_.

He’s not sure what he was expecting. But whatever it was, it mattered about the same.

Chara slipped out from behind the door, and didn’t even wait a beat this time.

“Sans.”

They couldn’t possibly be able to see him—but they looked ahead all the same with completely certainty that he was there and listening.

“Sans, let’s talk. We definitely, _definitely_ need to talk about what happened.”

Sans stifled a chuckle against his hand. Chara straightened their posture, and spoke clearer, sterner.

“Don’t be rude, Sans. We really do need to have a little chat.” Then, with a click of their tongue, they added. “That was quite the stupid, _pointless_ stunt you pulled, you know—your brother died almost immediately after. He didn’t even try to run. Why did you expect _any_ differently?”

Sans did still, did go quiet. But he still didn’t appear before them.

“I’ve never seen him react that way though—so I guess I should thank you for giving me _something_ utterly new.” Chara giggles, leaning back against the door. He noticed that their hair was once again tied up with that ribbon. Had they removed it last time before...? “He looked so heartbroken. He was rattling his bones so much that I couldn’t even hear whatever drivel he was saying. It was _hilarious_. It’s a shame you couldn’t see the full extent of it. It was just _so_ great.”

Pushing theirself off the door, they began to walk forward, calling to the trees, “He was probably trying to spout the same sentimental nonsense as before—but he was so _shaken_! You know, I’ve been wondering though, in the case where you died first, do you think if I let him survive up until that point that _he’d_ be the one to face me in the Judgement Hall? Do you think he’ll still _spare_ me then?”

When there was no answer except for a colder breeze, they went on oh so cheerily, “If you’re really alright with me killing you first—that’s fine. So, in that case, let’s _cut to the chase_. Get straight to the _point_. If this is going to be the new way to play, I’ll be all too happy to take a _stab_ at it.”

They paused, perking up when they heard the crunch of snow behind them. Instantly, they pulled out the plastic knife and spun on their heel before swiping the weapon with enough force to slice the very air in half.

Sans was far enough that only the very edge of his coat got nicked.

“Sharp reflexes as always,” Chara comments, smile twitching into a wide grin. Sans shrugged casually.

“Right back at ya, kid. Though, I have to say...” His own grin widened. “I’m really not a fan of being _toyed_ with, no matter how pleasantly you _word_ it.”

Chara laughed, pointing the knife away, flipping it in their hand and shuffling it back into place. Putting their hands up, palms facing towards him, they respond cheerfully, “I was kidding. But you must’ve figured that out already.”

“Even if I suspected it being an unfunny joke, you trying that wouldn’t have been a surprise. Hell, you might have actually tried it _before_ by now.” Sans pointed out, edge of his smile twitching even as his posture seemed to tense for just a bit. “You have no standards, kid.”

“I actually haven’t tried anything like that.” They said matter-of-factly with a simple shake of their head. “Killing you first thing would make killing everyone else easy, true, but I can’t imagine going to that Judgement Hall and not seeing you. It’d feel wrong.” Their voice rose, just a bit, getting firmer. “Besides, you’re _interesting_. I _have_ to save you for last. What else could I do with you?”

He could have laughed so _hard_ at that.

“I could recommend a few things.” Sans pointed off with his thumb. “For starters, there’s this really nice cliff off the edge of Snowdin. The absolute _height_ of beautiful views in this area. If you want to jump off it or need someone to push you, I can show you where it is.”

“Maybe later then.” Chara replied brightly. Sans’s smile dulled as they went on. “That does make me think though—I do like spending time with you outside of our fights. How about for a bit, I play nice? I’ll even do those stupid puzzles—make your stupid brother happy for a bit. How’s that sound?”

“Suspicious as hell.” He answered bluntly. To that, they laughed.

“You can keep an eye socket out, then. I’m not asking for you to let your guard down—on the contrary, I absolutely want you to _watch me_.”

“Watching out for an _eyesore_ like you.” Sans huffed, grin harsh. “Wow that, uh, actually _doesn’t_ sound nice at all. What a shock. If this is supposed to be a joke, kid, it’s lacking any good sense of humor as per usual.”

“It’s not a joke. I mean it with _all my heart_.” Chara drew an ‘x’ over their chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die. If that grants you some semblance of relief.”

“Nooot really,” he hummed, rocking on his heels, before sighing at the ceiling so high above them. “But, hey, it’s not like I _really_ have a choice in the matter, right? You can just do what you want, kid, even if I don’t like it. Because I’m _not_ the one with a say in any of this no matter how much you pretend otherwise, be it for my sake or something else.”

“Oh, don’t say that!” they tutted, waving their finger at him before giving him a chipper wink. “I wouldn’t bother to ask if _that_ was truly the case. You _matter_ a lot more than you give yourself credit for!”

Even in better times, Sans wouldn’t have believed a damn word. Still, Chara grinned back at him and beckoned him with a wave of their hand.

“Come. Let’s go, Sans.”

They turn back around, gesturing him to follow with their shoulder before walking on ahead. Sans, staring darkly at their retreating back, moved to overlap their tracks in quick strides. And then he brushed past them entirely, making them stumble a bit in confusion as he kept on walking.

Chara gasped a little as they regained their footing, looking up at Sans striding ahead with wide eyes. Soon, a radiant smile once again burst across their face and they skipped after him in order to catch up. He avoided them reaching out to grab his arm without missing a beat, which was a bit disappointing, but Chara took it all in stride with a laugh all the same.

* * *

 It’s an unpleasant situation to be in for sure, but he sure as hell doesn’t let that show. Especially when he has to introduce them to Papyrus—when he’ll have to smile and nod along with his brother’s enthusiasm and his antics and pretend that everything’s going to be just fine. Thankfully, it’s one of his many skills.

The kid has that perpetual rosy-cheeked smile, which both really helped sell the act—and acted as a cold, cold reminder of just how _ugly_ the very act was. They were even humming a cheerful tune, as if the whole thing wasn’t already a gross as hell caricature of amiability. He’s surprised he can even stomach it—metaphorically speaking, of course.

But this kid was just _full_ of bitter little surprises, _weren’t they_?

Chara. Their **_name_** was—

“...Chara.”

“Hmm?” Chara immediately perked up, red-brown eyes alit as they turned to him inquiringly. “Did you say something, Sans?”

Sans quickly looked away, ducking into his coat and keeping his expression the epitome of neutrality as he shrugged it off. He didn’t give an answer in words—and he didn’t want to put the effort in coming up with something to say regardless.

He had other things to focus on. More pressing matters.

_Papyrus._

There was a world of difference in the careful way he said his brother’s name against the careful way he said theirs.

“Papyrus.”

Papyrus was already on his way on a path that would have intercepted theirs. At the call of his name, and at Sans standing there, he immediately perked up in confusion but shouted his name in return, “SANS!”

He began to take those wider strides to close the distance faster, already running his jaw, “What _is_ it—did you find a human?!”

“Yeah.” Sans winked, giving an easy response as Chara’s sharp gaze flickered between him and his brother. “I did.”

“Really?!” Papyrus gasped, but then as he came up in front of them, close enough to notice the human in question—and upon actually noticing them this time, that smile ended up falling. He squinted at them, and Chara met his stare coolly and unreadably as his expression seemed to pinch with thought and... He turned to Sans again, seeking something that was difficult to identify for Chara—but something that had Sans stiffening, posture growing more rigid even as that smile stayed firmly unmoved. “Sans... Is this the human? Do I _know_ them?”

Chara blinked, glancing at Sans as well. Sans didn’t answer at first. But he looked considerably more tired as the seconds ticked on and he contemplated a good response.

“Well, I wouldn’t rule that possibility out. That said...” Lighter, he added, “You’ve never said anything like that before, bro.”

“I didn’t? That’s—weird!!” Papyrus really looked like he wanted to say something else—albeit seemingly not entirely sure of what exactly else to say—but he soon shook the thought off, clearing his throat and directing his voice towards Chara. “Nevertheless! HUMAN!! While it is a shame that my brother has likely made a strange impression on you, I—The GREAT Papyrus—will tell you what to expect from us!!”

Chara snorted and laughed into their hand.

Sans sharply elbowed them, muttering to them in a low tone that only they could hear, “Don’t be _rude_.”

“SANS!!” Papyrus cut himself off, noticing. “It’s so _RUDE_ to make snide commentary while someone’s TALKING!!!”

“Snide? _Me_?” Sans, without missing a beat and pulling his arm away, feigned offense with a smack of his hand against his sternum. “How can you even _accuse_ me of that, bro? That cuts me deep. Deep to the _soul_.” He sniffled, curling his mittened hand, and with only a fraction of enough effort to come across as vaguely sincere. Chara had to stifle another giggle. “You break my heart, bro. That hurts. That _really_ hurts.”

“...Maybe snide wasn’t the right word to use...” Papyrus definitely faltered, backpedaling before quickly asserting himself again, albeit on shakier ground. “Y-You know what I meant, Sans! You’re distracting me from telling the human what they need to know! At this rate, they’re going to be confused!”

“Well, maybe they’re not keen on instructions anyway,” Sans switched back to laidback ease so seamlessly that Papyrus started fuming even as he went on with the coolest of tones, “For all we know, this human might just be a real go-getter that prefers just diving in headfirst. Ya know, the _‘strike first, ask questions later’_ kind. Like Undyne.”

“Sans!” Papyrus admonishes. “You can’t just make _ASSUMPTIONS_...!”

“But that’s accurate, isn’t it?” Sans, suddenly, turns to them, meeting their widening gaze with an imperturbable one where the lights in his sockets were only _just_ a little brighter than expected. He repeats the question, and those lights brighten even more, “ _Isn’t_ it?”

Chara blinked, and then they smiled, wide and beaming, before giving a quick, cheerful nod.

Papyrus’s jaw went slack, and Sans turned back to him with that calm, calm smile. “And that’s that, isn’t it, bro?”

“...Nyeh....huh... I guess...it is...??” Papyrus rubbed at the back of his skull. That red scarf fluttered like a cape. Then, with a brief clench of his teeth, he seemed to push that uncertainty and insecurity aside in favor of giving one of those big, dopey grins he was so prone to. “Well! This is fine too! It’ll be a surprise!! Humans like those, right?!”

“Oh, yeah, _big fans_ of when they’re taken off-guard. _Especially_ this one.” It’s something else that Sans says it all so easily, so simply like it really is the truth. Then again, it isn’t exactly a lie either. They giggle, as Papyrus nods in understanding.

Understanding—except he looks like he’s aware of the fact that there’s something he’s not quite _getting_. But it’s not them he’s looking at with that slight degree of questioning—it’s _Sans_. Sans, who just shoves his hand back into his pocket and gives a carefree shrug like there’s really nothing else to it.

If Chara didn’t know any better, they wouldn’t have suspected a thing. Even now, they have difficulty seeing whatever it is Papyrus sees, if he’s really seeing anything at all. And that’s a bit...

...irritating. Does he even know what Sans is truly _capable of_? Has he ever had a _smidgen_ of what Chara has seen? Of what they _have_ had, more times than they could _count_?

They doubt it. After all, Sans _loves_ him. He probably loves him as much as they loved Asriel.

It’s so irritating that they could kill him here and now. They want to. They would, if not for their word from earlier. They wonder if this feeling is something Sans knows. They could guess, although they were never quite sure and never asked him _who that old lady he apologized to was._

But it’s still pretty obvious.

The thought is almost as sweet as it is sickening.

“Is that so?” Papyrus asked. Just those three little words. Sans gives a firm nod. That much is enough. Papyrus manages to regain himself—loud, obnoxiously forced bravado and all—and huffs. “Well if you insist and the human agrees, I guess it can’t be helped! A surprise it shall be! BUT, HUMAN...!” he points at them with a swoosh of his arm through the air, giving them a star-flicked wink. “Little do you know you have weighed the battle in OUR favor! We are going to SURPRISE you and—then we’re going to CAPTURE you and since I have no idea what comes next after your delivery— _I_ WILL BE THE ONE SURPRISED, NYEHEHEH!!”

Chara blinked and then smiled up at him, wide with only the slightest twitch at the corner of their lips. In their peripherals, they saw the lights of Sans’s gaze flicker towards them for the briefest of moments.

Papyrus just grinned back, and then took his brother’s arm, “In that case...!”

Except that Chara latched onto Sans’s other arm, and dug their heels into the ground, preventing him from being pulled away lest risking his scrawny arms snapping like the branches off a twig. Papyrus stopped pulling, flinching with surprise and immediate caution. Cheek against the soft fabric of his coat, only slightly cushioning the rigidness of his limb, Chara met that wide-eyed so very ignorant gaze with the sharpest of stares. That grin never left their face.

Papyrus finally looked at _them_ like something was wrong. Really, _really_ wrong.

Then they see as he tries to brush that thought aside, and though his tone is soft, there’s also a firmness to it. “Human, please relinquish your hold on my brother.”

Chara shakes their head slowly, squeezing his arm tighter, enunciating the words clearly and slowly so that even a snail could get it. “Don’t _wanna_.”

“Don’t...want to??” He still looked confused. Of course he did. “Human, I don’t know if this is just normal human behavior—”

“It probably isn’t.” Sans murmurs, too soft, too dark for Papyrus to pick up on but it meets their ears like wind playfully bustling through the leaves. They have to hold onto him even tighter.

“ _But_!!” Papyrus exclaims, much louder, much more resounding. “He’s MY brother!! So! I insist that you unhand him! We can’t get started until...!”

“Can’t we?” Chara asks, quiet and deliberate. Meeting his stare evenly. “What’s _stopping_ you? What do you really _need_ Sans for? Especially right now?”

Papyrus opened his mouth to say something, his hold on his brother’s arm tightening as well, but his jaw clinked shut when Sans spoke up.

“Papyrus.” Papyrus turned his stare back to Sans and held it, visibly bothered and upset. Sans smiled back, calmly and reassuringly. “Don’t worry about this. They’re just gonna get captured anyway so what’s the harm in indulging them for a bit for now? Besides.” He winked. “I think they like my jokes.”

Papyrus grimaced. “So they have terrible taste in addition to bad manners.”

And still, he didn’t let go.

“Well.” Sans rolled his eyes—or at least the equivalent of that—and chuckled. “Eh, what can you do? I’ll just catch ya on the flipside later, kay bro?”

“Ugh.” Papyrus groaned and then, with obvious hesitation, he released his brother’s arm and pulled away. “Fine. But, I... I don’t want you leading the human through any weird shortcuts, do you hear me?! And don’t _loiter_ , either!” His voice rose for a bit, almost like it got caught on something else, but with a sigh, Papyrus went on. “Sans, you’ll be careful just this once, right? Now is _not_ the time to get caught up in weird schemes, especially with this human...!”

And it sounded like he really needed that assurance. Chara blinked in interest and buried their face in his sleeve with a giggle.

“Aw, have some faith, Paps.” Sans spoke so lightly, but now in their grip alone, they could tell he was undoubtedly tense. “Like I wouldn’t be ** _serious_** at a time like this.”

There was a moment where that light tone dropped completely, but it was so brief that it could have been imagined. Papyrus blinked a few times but huffed, puffing out his chest with hands on his hips.

“Then, just this once—I, the GREAT Papyrus, shall rely on my lackadaisical brother!!” He paused, as though the words took a while and then he exclaimed, considerably brighter, “WOWIE, THIS DAY REALLY _IS_ FULL OF SURPRISES!!”

He quickly rushed off with a stream of laughs that had Sans chuckling again, waving and wishing his brother off. Chara, uncovering their eyes only to watch him finally be on his way, hummed.

And then, once Papyrus was out of sight, finally, Sans shoved them off none too gently.

“So, uh, bucko,” He started, and though that tone was blithe as before, it still felt as though he was hissing through his teeth, “Mind telling me what the hell that was all about?”

Chara, regaining theirself and rubbing where they’d been so rudely pushed, turned to him with a silent, sunny smile. They shrugged. He just huffed.

“ _Look_ , kid,” He was gripping his arm tightly where they had clung, and then stiffly brushed it off—likely to get the _dust_ off. “Just because you said you’d be somewhat of a decent person for the time being doesn’t mean we’re pals now. To say I’m still not your biggest fan would be a _spectacular_ understatement.”

“Aw, don’t be that way.” Chara laughs, showing their hands and making placating motions. They remember the last time they said this. From the look on Sans’s expression—he likely remembers as well.

He even responds with the exact same phrase from before, clipped and cold and not missing a beat.

“Go to hell.”

This time, they bristle, smile twitching into something blatantly unimpressed. “If I play nice, so should you, Sans. Be fair about this.”

“If acting like a greedy child getting their toy taken away is your definition of ‘nice’, I’d hate to see you playing _rough_. You know what’d be _really_ nice, kiddo?” Sans asks, and then he grins, and for a second—they see that furious little _flicker_ of blue-yellow in his left socket. “You just plain staying the _hell_ away from me, Papyrus, and everyone else.”

“If you keep being rude,” they answer, simply and blinking back at him oh so innocently, “I’m going to kill that brother of yours. If you’re going to try and stop me, I’ll just kill you first again. And I’ll reset and repeat. Over and over until you _learn_. We both know I’m capable of that, Sans.”

Sans’s grin falters. Overall, he falters.

With a sigh, with a heavy, heavy sigh, he ducks his head. He doesn’t say anything, but the implicit compliance has Chara’s eyes sparkling in delight and their smile stretching wide enough to light up their entire face.

“That’s a good boy.” With a giggle, they placed their hand on the crown of his skull and stroked their fingertips against the smooth surface. And how faded that white of the bone had looked, contrasted against their reddened fingers, delighted Chara further. “You _can_ understand after all.”

“You’re just going to do that regardless though, right?” he mumbles, gruff and harsh. Then he ducks out from under their hand, sidestepping away but keeping his head down even as his shoulders tense. “Because that’s just how you _are_.”

“In that case it shouldn’t matter then, right?” they ask playfully. “You should still be lashing that sharp tongue of yours. But you aren’t. I wonder why that _is_!”

Well.

_Because even if the memories can be undone, something like that happening over and over again is **bound** to leave its mark on Papyrus._

Sans huffed, raising his chin, just a little. “ _You_ wouldn’t understand, kiddo. Best not to be too curious.”

“Ooh!” Chara’s laugh was all the brighter. “Now curiosity’s _killing_ me!”

“...Heh.” The laugh they got in return was soft and downtrodden. “How I _wish_.”

Chara looks him over with that rosy-cheeked smile, indented with dimples and such a bright, bright gaze. Sans, when glancing up and upon noting that stare staying fixated on him—a spark of _something_ in those red-brown eyes that sent a shiver up his spine—couldn’t help but wince. Just a bit.

It wasn’t the same as the smile they had when going in for the kill—but he couldn’t say it was all that pleasant either way, nor if it was even preferable to that. Because at least he knew what to _expect_ then—could easily figure what was on their _mind_.

He could hazard a guess now. He didn’t like what he came up with.

He’d like to just get this all over with. He’d so much rather be in bed right now or at Grillby’s or trading jokes with that woman or selling hotdogs at one of his stations or with—

Sans swallowed.

_It shouldn’t matter, right?_

Whether the words were spoken in his voice or that kid’s high-pitched, light-hearted lilt—the effect was about the same. He could respond differently, of course, with resignation or defiance just based on emotional impulse—but it still meant _the same thing_. And deep down, in that part unmoved, unflinching even as he pushed at it, he still felt the same way.

It didn’t matter, right?

...But.

_You don’t want to hurt your brother._

_Not when he still **matters** to you._

**_Isn’t that right?_ **

Taking a deep breath, Sans smoothed his smile over the same way he did each and every morning ever since he realized the truth. It didn’t matter when, where, or who he had to direct that smile to—he just gave what he got. It didn’t matter. Not at all.

Not even with this twisted little child who caused so much tragedy with their death and their many, many lives. He should feel sorry for them. He should offer them another hand, some bad jokes, some good food, something— _something_...

Something other than the burning, intensifying desire to **_smear_** them across the Underground and back so that there’d be nothing less than one long mess he’d have to clean up.

It didn’t matter. He smiled all the same.

“...Kid.” That smile widens. They perk up with interest. “We really should get going after him. My bro _hates_ to be kept waiting.”

And when they press their lips tightly together, their expression darkening oh so slightly— _well_. His grin just widened all the more.

* * *

Chara has a bit of a plan to get things on the desired track. It’ll be a bit tedious and most certainly a bit annoying, but they’re willing to roll with it. It definitely won’t be as bad as lying in bed and waiting to die—although Sans, most likely, would _prefer_ that course of action, wouldn’t he?

Maybe they’ll allow it later. Maybe someday.

Someday.

But not now, obviously.

They have to play nice in _another_ way. How hard could it be? They can be patient—they’ve learned to be patient. Besides, it’ll be something new. Something. Tedious, annoying, whatever—at least it would be something _new_.

Besides they can work with this. They can still twist this to their advantage. Their fingers may itch towards that toy— _and how_ annoying _this toy is, it’s not the same thing, it’s not nearly as_ comforting _, it’s so irritating that it can’t cut_ **quite** _right_ —but they hold back because it’ll be so, so much more satisfying later if they hold back _now_.

Besides.

They have a plan. It’s only a bit but it’s still something.

Playing nice for now won’t kill them— _not even slowly_ —so it’ll be fine, as tedious as it potentially get.

Sans walks besides them, with his usual posture—hands in pockets, head down, but discretely perceptive gaze on them and everything else, just in case. There’s actually just a bit of distance between the two of them. Enough that their arms don’t brush against one another. Enough that it doesn’t look like Sans is actively avoidant of being just a _little_ too close.

Chara reaches across that miniscule, desperate bit of distance to wrap their fingers around his arm. Sans sighs, the air puffing visibly before his teeth, but doesn’t miss a step when he dodges their grasp just as he did before. The action still looks coincidental and unassuming—like all Sans really is focused on is just what’s ahead, they suppose.

It’s fine. A bit disappointing but...

They shiver in the cold air. Sans is genuinely unaffected—and genuinely indifferent as they wrap their arms around theirself, rubbing up and down to get some warmth. It had been cold in the ruins, too, but she had always been so warm they didn’t have to worry. For the moment—up until the end when she really _looked_ at them.

They’re numb to that now and yes, even the cold hardly bothers them as much as it used to, but... It’s still a bit irritating. It’s fine— _for now, it’s fine, but_ —there’s still that part of them that’s irritated and _impatient_. Even though it’s not like they can reasonably expect quick results, not with someone like _Sans_. At least they’re getting something, something new, a little at a time. That should be enough. That’s still something.

They huff hot air into their hands and rub, rub, rub to get enough friction to burn. They breathe in to try and warm their hands more, and end up coughing because of the dust that gets into their throat.

They have to stop in their tracks.

Eyes stinging from the dust and still coughing, they don’t even notice that Sans stops too, and that he stares at them. They whine when they try to wipe their eyes with the dusty ends of their sleeves, groaning when they nearly claw those eyes out with how much they itch and _hurt_.

“Urgh...” Cursing as they rub furiously with their arm, the stinging got worse and worse as they cursed and cursed and—

And Sans snorted. They stilled immediately.

Slowly, they turned, through blurring, watery reddened eyes, they could see his shoulders shaking, a hand pressed against his grin, and then they registered his low, rumbling, barely muffled _laughter_.

They don’t need to ask why. It’s easy to see how hilarious the sight must’ve been. Their eyes are still hurting, and their throat is still throbbing—and Sans crosses an arm over his midsection as he nearly doubles over laughing and **_laughing_**.

“Aw _jeez_ ,” he chokes, and then giggles more even as the tone both lightened and lowered, as it was tinged with sudden bitterness and hysteria, “Imagine if that _killed_ ya, kid—right here and now if you just _choked to death on **that**_ —”

Chara’s eyes went wide and immediately mirthful giggles of their own bubbled up their sore throat to their lips. “I,” They titter, pressing their hands to their mouth as well, beginning to shake in a joyful paroxysm of their own. “I didn’t even _think_ about that...!”

They both broke down into this ridiculous laughing fit, and god it actually hurt for Chara because of how violent it got to be on their throat—and _hell_ , that wasn’t even accounting for the fact that, when they laughed so hard to the point of tears, those tears burned _so_ badly and this time...

This time they couldn’t _bear_ to wipe them away. Not now, not when finally, they were having _so much fun_ and all because of a possible outcome that would have just been so stupid and yet also so ridiculously _funny_ —!!

The laughter eventually dissolved—Chara couldn’t even tell which of them stopped first, but they both were breathing heavily. Chara licked at the corner of their lips, tasting both salt and dust, and while wiping the tear tracks away, they couldn’t help but cough every now and then.

Blearily, they did notice that Sans was wiping his face off too with his sleeve. He was sweating again, and for a second, he shuddered with a groan and then, pressing his teeth hard into his sleeve, he uttered, “Ugh. _Fuck_.”

“Language.” Chara admonishes the way their mother would have. It’s so instinctual it’s a real surprise. It’s enough of a real surprise that any lingering amusement immediately dissipated. Sans, however, does chuckle, however bitterly.

“Sorry if _that_ of all things bothers you, kiddo.” There was exhaustion back in his tone. He sighs, pulling his arm back, and then, although it may have been accidental, their eyes met. Sans is still grinning, but it’s such a pitiful thing that Chara could have started crying all over again.

They just smile back. Smile brightly, at that, and says, “We should get going, Sans. Your brother _hates_ to be kept waiting.”

“...Yeah.” Sans nods, and then, without really knowing why, says, “Let’s go, Chara.”

Chara lit up to the point where he wondered if this was how people could go blind and if so—god, it really _hurt_ to look at.


	5. Just Do It!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Papyrus is really not having the greatest of days. Maybe it'd be better if the spaghetti didn't have to go ignored.
> 
> Yeah, uh, sorry about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how last chapter, I said I had to cut it comparatively short because then it'd be "WAAAAY" too long? Well that was a good call because this chapter is way long. But not waaaay too long. I...I think. It's like 13.2K-ish so feel free to grab a bottle of water and a sandwich or something to eat while reading. Or maybe that's bad advice. It gets kinda disturbing and later kinda gruesome. Please don't make yourself sick because you listened to advice from an idiot like me. Just don't do it. Ignore the chapter title. Don't do it.
> 
> If that happens though, I take full blame. Send all your complaints to magioftheseas on tumblr. That's lil ol' often lonely me. I reblog a lot of pictures. :D
> 
> On an actually related to this story note, I love Papyrus so much. Bless his soul for being so bright.
> 
> Also 1500 hits? Holy shit. I mean, a good number of those are probably from myself but like, damn. Thank...you?? I really hope you're not lost.

Alone, Papyrus waited beside the electricity maze. Hands on his hips, he squints at the entrance from the other side for any signs of the approach of either the human or his brother. It hadn’t been that long—and knowing how slow his brother was, he knew he should expect at least a lot more waiting. No matter! He’d be ready no matter how long it took!

...He is getting rather worried though. In the very least, Sans knew his way around the area—maybe surprisingly better than anyone Papyrus knew without the nose for it—so there wasn’t much risk in the two getting lost... And Sans would never be so reckless he’d fall into the frozen lake or over one of the cliff edges or—

Papyrus knows this already but he really kind of hates it when he doesn’t know what his brother is up to. And a human being thrown into the mix could mean so many things—because he’s really not sure what humans are _capable_ of so—

_So, if...that human **hurts** Sans..._

Wait. That was a _sudden_ thought. And a surprising one! He wasn’t even sure how he came up with it! Granted, yes, some people could be on the careless side—and he certainly did his fair share about worrying over _that_ as well. Especially in regards to Sans. It would only take one mistake, be it an impulsive use of magic, an overzealous greeting, or any kind of lashing out with magic whatsoever. Just one mistake. His brother was good about dodging those kinds of mistakes in addition to his responsibilities, but... It only had to happen once.

As the stronger, physically bigger brother, Papyrus never let himself forget that when it came to his frailer, physically littler brother. It was why he had to be so harsh!

Being on that kind of edge for the entirety of one’s life—he couldn’t begin to _imagine_ -!

_It was terrifying just to **think** about!_

...But his brother never let such things show. He never really let much of anything show. Sans, even though he wasn’t keen on doing anything, didn’t even care about making it better for himself. It only figures that along with everything else, Papyrus had to do _all_ the worrying on top of it.

The human and Sans still haven’t arrived. Of course not. That’s hardly a surprise, considering it’s _Sans_.

Sans.

His soul still felt painfully tight. That feeling that there was something wrong still hadn’t dissipated, even though Sans acted like everything was fine as he always did. And how weirdly weird _that_ was all of a sudden! Almost like something did happen and something _did_ change, but...what?

“ _Ugh_.”

Papyrus let out a loud, resounding groan, rubbing hard at his temples as he tried to think. If he forces the thought, maybe it’ll have to come out. That’s never worked before—but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work ever.

Something _happened_ —something that _changed_ everything so that nothing was the same. He knew it! He just didn’t know what! Sans—Sans wasn’t going to be of any help, but for some reason he felt like he— _needed to help Sans, perhaps?_

There was a puzzle here. His brother had some of the pieces. But Papyrus could figure this out. He had to excel where his brother lacked, after all! Although...

“...UGH!”

It was beyond frustrating that Sans never talked to him or to anyone. Someday he would, Papyrus knew it— _couldn’t rush it, couldn’t rush it ever, couldn’t ever, **ever** push his brother even when he really, really wanted to_ —but... It’d be nice if Sans could just vaguely gesture in the direction he needed to go to understand. Maybe...if he just asked for something that minimal...? That’d be alright, right?

...Right. He’d have to ask after they captured the human though. That was fine!

The human. They just showed up but they really seemed familiar. And the familiarity had his soul clenching—and _that_ feeling wasn’t familiar at all. He certainly didn’t like it. Too unpleasant. Too painful. Too... _nonsensical_!

_Had_ he met them before? He felt like he had. But Sans said he _never_ —and if there was _anyone_ Papyrus would tell about something like that, it’d be Sans _first and foremost_ —!

**_Ugh._** His skull was really starting to hurt. And his neck was starting to get a little stiff— _and that **definitely** felt weird and off with everything else_ —Papyrus was really starting to get antsy.

“Think harder, Papyrus!” he told himself, loudly and firmly as he smacked the temporal sides of his skull as though that’d knock some sense into all this. “That human, that **_human_**!! Do I _really_ know that person...?!”

Someone answered. “Do you not know...who you know?”

“Of course I know who I know!” he responded to that low voice immediately, shaking his fists with frustration. “I just want to know if I know who I know as much as I know who I know!! _You know_?!”

_...Wait a minute._

“Pffft.” Papyrus perked up in a shock, turning quickly to the direction of where that voice came from. Sans, by his side as though he never left in the first place, was shaking with laughter—hand firmly over his mouth to muffle the giggles. Wiping at his eye sockets, Sans went on. “I actually don’t really know, bro. I just don’t know.”

“ ** _Sans_**...!”

“That’s me. Probably.” Sans gave a wave, laidback as always. “What’s up, bro?”

“The...!!” Papyrus sputtered, and with warring frustration and confusion, he demanded, “The _human_?!?!”

“Oh, yeah, they’re on their way. Nooo worries.” He gave an upwards tug at his shirt collar, averting his gaze towards where the human was supposed to arrive on the other side. Where he was _supposed_ to arrive as well—but, like always, Sans just appeared as though out of thin air. Really annoying! And troubling! And.... _And_...

“And you just...left them behind?” Papyrus asked, quirking a brow.

“They were taking their time on the ice—so I gave them the _slip_.” Sans winked. “They seemed real focused on something—so I didn’t want to distract them too much. Might make them...slip up, ya know? I really wouldn’t worry about them at all, Paps.”

With a huff, he retorted. “But they could still get lost, Sans!”

His brother faltered, almost looking...exasperated? Then that smile hardened for a second. And it surprised him—because for that second, it really didn’t look like his Sans. It passed, and Sans gave a more characteristically carefree shrug, but that second continued to niggle at his thoughts about how something was _definitely_ wrong.

“Get lost, huh,” his brother mused, and then mumbled something low into his mittened hand. Papyrus, as focused as he was, vaguely picked up on the words—something like _‘if only’_? Then Sans resumed. “Eh. I’ll go look for them if it gets to be too long. I don’t like the idea of them just wandering around either. They might get into _trouble_.”

“Oh no!” Papyrus exclaimed and then groaned. “Ugh! I should have just stayed with you two...!!”

“Papyrus, you’re fine.” Sans brushed him off easily like there really was nothing to worry about. “I’m not worried about them at all.”

“But, you just said...!!”

“No matter what happens, _they’ll_ be fine.” Sans said, startlingly sharp and cutting his words clean off. Papyrus did notice, however, that he was holding onto his shirt, fist clenched over his chest... Papyrus felt his own soul throb, making his eyes go wide, suddenly taking in everything with intense focus.

The tight grip on his shirt—the tense edges of his smile—those downturned corners of his gaze and the fixated yet also faded lights of his sockets...

“It really doesn’t matter...” he muttered, low and cold, “You shouldn’t worry—I sure wouldn’t. I’m not worried at _all_.”

Papyrus blinked. Suddenly, _like nothing was wrong at all_ , Sans was smiling up at him as he usually did. He must have noticed his focused staring. Sans knew his potential eye for often overlooked details—it was one of many traits to be proud of! Sans always said he was certainly a better puzzle-solver for it—but now in his brother’s gaze, instead of admiration, there seemed to be a hint of...

_...irritation?_

“Papyrus,” his brother sighs, and even with his lightening tone, the atmosphere feels heavy. “Look, humans are actually real...”

“Wouldn’t the human be upset with you for leaving?” he found himself asking. His voice rose but whether it was worry or something else—Papyrus wasn’t really thinking about that. There was something _wrong_ here. “They seemed so _eager_ to keep you around, brother, but—”

_But you seem even less enthusiastic than usual..._

“...durable.” Sans finished, once again sharp. Almost like a warning. “They’re actually far more durable than most monsters. That’s why I’m not worried.”

That didn’t answer the question. And it was such an _appallingly_ careless way to avoid answering said question too, _especially_ by his brother’s standards.

“They still have _feelings_ , Sans,” Papyrus reminded him. “You really shouldn’t be careless when it comes to...”

Sans gripped his shirt even tighter, making Papyrus trail off. Sans slowly began to chuckle, stammering a bit as he did, “Welp, uh, if they’re _really_ upset, I’ll make it up to them later. It...” He took a deep breath, letting his voice waver as he stumbled over the words, “It’s been a long day, Paps. I’m...I’m kinda out of it, honestly? Sorry... Sorry if I’m not up to my usual...”

It’s such a pitiful sight. It’s just such a _painfully_ pitiful sight. And it’s just that easy to flip his switch from nagging to doting.

“Oh no, Sans!!” Papyrus latched onto him with the exclamation, wrapping his arms tightly around his smaller brother’s shoulders and squeezing him as though it’d steady him, too. His big, sympathetic heart is already aching as he fretfully rambles on, “If it’s one of your bad days, then there’s nothing to apologize for! You can’t help it—but as always, _I’ll_ help you through it! Don’t worry! We can apologize to the human together when they get here! Right?”

“...Heh. Heheh.” Sans’s chuckle was lower, darker, but his agreement was considerably bright. “Sure thing, bro.”

Sans fondly pats his back as Papyrus adoringly squeezes him again. Usually that’s the end of it. There’s nothing more to it at the moment, as far as Papyrus is concerned.

As far as Sans is concerned, that’s just fine. Fine, fine, fine.

It’s beyond a good thing Papyrus can’t see the smile on his face as he buries himself in that red scarf and sighs. And, with the kind of carefully crafted shakiness that Mettaton would praise, he quietly says his thanks. Papyrus doesn’t even wait a beat before babbling more about how it’s fine, it’s fine, there’s nothing to even thank him for because—

“...It’s the very _least_ you can expect from your very great, very COOL brother...!”

Sans chuckles. Even muffled, it sounds a lot like relief. It kind of is.

Papyrus didn’t have to know the details in this case. Not at all.

* * *

The kid really took their time getting to the maze, but when they did, it was pretty obvious they were rather irritated. They were shaking snow from their shoes, and their lips were pulled down into an unimpressed frown.

“Oh, THERE you are!!” Papyrus exclaimed. “I was rather worried, human! I don’t know what happened after I left, but—you didn’t get hurt after my brother rushed off, right?!”

Chara didn’t answer in words, but the way they shuffled seemed to indicate they were perfectly fine. They met Sans’s gaze—he grinned as their frown deepened, and he said, lightly and insincerely, “Sorry about the slip, kiddo.”

“No you’re not.” It’s a bit of a surprise they verbally respond. Even Papyrus flinches. “You really broke my heart, Sans. I thought we were _bonding_.”

_...bonding?_ Papyrus blinks, and looks at his brother’s impassive expression, at how he furrowed his brow like he wasn’t sure if they were being serious or not. He still widens his smile, gives a chuckle, but...

“...Right. Uh. Kay.”

Papyrus frowns.

“Well,” they sigh, harshly and heavily, running tense fingers through their hair. “I’m not that surprised.”

...Oh, right!

“Speaking of surprises!!!” Papyrus cut in, louder than usual, perking up and quickly throwing himself back into the act. Hand on his hips, chest puffed out, grin flashing towards the human as he announced, “HUMAN!! In order to stop you, my brother and I have created some puzzles! And this one in particular—is quite a _SHOCK_!!”

The human blinked unresponsively back at him and then at the expanse between them.

“For you see—it’s the invisible _ELECTRICITY MAZE_!!!! And when you touch the walls of this maze, this—uh?? _Huh_?!” And here was the part where he was supposed to _brandish_ the orb that’d administer the hearty zaps—except, for some reason, it was no longer on his person? “...Where did it...?”

“Here ya go, kiddo.”

...and when did Sans reappear on the other side of the maze?! No, more importantly, Papyrus recognized the sheen of the orb in question as his brother placed it on the human’s head with a cheerful hum. Apparently Sans just snatched it without him looking which was...really, really _weird_.

“Sans...! When did you...?!”

“Is there a problem, Papyrus?” his brother called back, to which he fumed. Because yes! There were—many, many problems with this scenario! He knew it—he just wasn’t sure how to word it.

Frustratingly, Sans just turned back to the human to resume talking to them like he hadn’t even spoken up. Even the grin he gave Papyrus before doing so did little to alleviate that unpleasant feeling of _wrong_. Of _bizarre_.

_Maybe it’s just been an especially bad day?_ Part of him reasoned. _Except...Sans hasn’t ever just acted out on his own like this before?? He’s usually...slower. Not this quick. But... It’s not like there’s only one way to have a bad day..._

“It’s a pretty simple concept. Keep moving forward until you get to the end.” Sans was saying. “But there’s only one right way to go. If you take a wrong step, this orb gives you quite the jolt. Guess you could say it _jolts_ you towards the right direction?”

_So..._

Despite chuckling at the awful joke, Sans comments. “Eh. Not one of my better ones. But watt can you do? It doesn’t matter anyway.”

**_So??_ **

Firmer. Easier. “You’ll keep moving forward regardless of how much it Hertz.”

They smile at his brother, sweetly and innocently. “I’m afraid I’m a little con _fused_. Were those jokes? You should explain them to me then—I’m sure it’ll be an _enlightening_ experience.”

“Maybe later.” Sans didn’t sound enthusiastic about that idea at all. Then, lower than Papyrus could hear, he leaned in to mutter into their ear, “If only you weren’t such a **_revolting_** piece of work.”

Chara just giggles.

Papyrus folds his arms, and then, after hesitating a bit, he called out again, “ _Sans_!”

Sans is by his side again in a blink, peering up at him receptively, but also with a trace of unreadability. Papyrus frowns back at him, and he humbly puts his hands up, responding, “Did I get carried away, bro? Sorry about that.”

Papyrus seemed ready to scold him but he just stopped, instead commenting that, “You’re...just surprisingly eager, I suppose! It’s...really weird??” Rubbing at the back of his skull, he added, “Considering everything, this change in you is really, REALLY weird, brother.”

Sans stared blankly back at him, and then widened that grin of his.

“You know...” he began before giving a wink. “You’re not wrong. Guess I should change that. Might ruin my lazybones image—can’t have that.”

“Wait, no, that’s not what I meant—!!” Papyrus sputtered, flustered. “Just because it’s weird doesn’t mean it’s bad, necessarily! In fact, I should be _happy_ you’re more eager! Why aren’t I happy?! That’s...!!” He stopped, realizing. “That’s...weird, too... This day has been _weird_...”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Sans agreed easily. He glanced towards the human. They blink unassumingly back as his stare narrows just a bit. “I wonder why that is.”

“No matter!!” Papyrus announced. Then, loudly directing his voice to that human, he exclaimed, “If nothing else, human, it’s in times like these where it’s QUITE important to move forward!! Especially if you love surprises!”

They didn’t seem all that responsive at first, for a while, but they soon smiled wide to which he grinned in return. They looked excited—and that certainly counted for something!!

...Right?

* * *

_Bzzt._

Although...

_Bzzt._

After a while...

_BZZT._

“Another wrong step, kiddo.” Sans said, a chuckle in his voice as his grin twitched. “Try again.”

And yet.

**_BZZT!_ **

The amount of fun that the human was having...actually looked rather small, Papyrus began to think. They certainly looked rather annoyed, especially at having only reached the midway point of the maze. But they were pushing through! They were persevering against the electrifying odds!

“It’s not a bad thing to be PUZZLED, human!!” Papyrus called out encouragingly. “That’s just part of the experience!! You’re doing very well, all things considered!!”

“Yeah, you’re doing _amazingly_ well.” Sans snorted into his hand. “Just keep it up. You’ll get here eventually. Stay determined.”

“You’re enjoying this!” the human shot back in accusation and irritation.

Papyrus blinked. Sans chuckled, and didn’t bother denying it.

“Well, that’s _hardly_ a shock, all things considered.” He paused, humming as he scratched his chin. “Wait, was that joke already used before, or...?”

“I used it,” Papyrus said matter-of-factly. He was staring at his brother rather strangely as he added, “Not that long ago, Sans.”

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugged, otherwise unaffected. “Welp. Well. I have time to come up with different jokes, with the rate this human’s _currently_ going at.”

“If only you employed that quick thinking elsewhere...” Though said with the usual groan, Papyrus perked up awkwardly as the human was zapped again. They only flinched in place despite the loudness of the sound and the sparks bouncing off the orb balanced precariously upon their head. They were always quick to step back, but their frown was deepening, their teeth beginning to grit.

They really did look like they weren’t having a lot of fun.

“...Maybe a hint, human!!” he shouted, but it was more like suggesting. They met his wide grin and worried gaze vacantly. Sans was glancing his way too, though not with any particular emotion. “There’s no shame in asking for help when needed! And I, the Great Papyrus, am always willing assistance!”

At first there wasn’t much of a response, but after a while, the human tilted their head and indifferently asked, “Is that what you tell everyone?”

“Huh? But—of course?!” He wondered why ask such a thing. Sans’s own smile tightened. “Human, that’s such a silly question!!”

“If that’s true, then,” With a pause, they resumed, voice light and innocuous. “I wonder exactly how many of them actually _listen_ to you.”

Sans tensed. But Papyrus didn’t flinch.

“Many, of course!” He didn’t even miss a beat. “Sometimes it’s difficult for people to believe—even with as great as I obviously am—but I always make it clear! They come around eventually!”

The human hummed. They took another wrong step, and despite the loud zap, they barely flinched this time and instead toed around for the correct path.

“I wonder if you really believe that,” they muse. “I’ve having a bit of difficulty believing such things myself.” They stumble a bit, but regain their balance quickly. “You said they come around eventually—but how many people _do_ come to you for help anyway?”

“Well of _course_ my brother, Undyne, Mrs...” Sans stopped him, to his confusion.

“They, uh,” he hesitated, smile twitching, and they were already smiling so, so wide at the words **_‘my brother’_** as Sans hurried on, “They weren’t actually asking that for a specific answer, Paps. They were asking to make a point.”

“What point?” Papyrus instantly asked. “Are they looking for further reassurance that I’m reliable?”

They giggled, and skipped a few steps ahead.

“That’s...” Sans swallowed, looking between him and the kid. Their smile widened even more, and then, shooting his strongest warning look, and with that returning defiance, he answered, “Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

“Understandable!!” his brother cheerfully exclaimed. “If you REALLY need a list, human, I, the GREATLY RELIABLE PAPYRUS, will GLADLY write all the names down!! Unfortunately, I may have left pen and paper at home, but—!”

“It’s, just, _fine_ ,” the human sing-sung with each skip. With one final leap, they landed on the end of the maze. They beamed up at the two, swatting the orb off their head, and while Papyrus perked up in awe, Sans seemed to sink even more in on himself. “It turned out as unnecessary as I expected it would be anyway.”

“Amazing, human!! You managed on your own just fine after all!” With that exclamation and at the human’s preening in respond, Papyrus happily added, “I’m so proud! However!” Hands on his hips with a huff. “That was only the first of many!! And the next puzzle will be even more confounding, being designed by my brother and all!!”

Then, just as Chara giggled into their hand and seemed to turn their focus to Sans, Papyrus remembered.

“Speaking of which—human, about you and Sans... I do apologize on his behalf for his behavior.” Placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, he felt just how rigid the other was, and his frown deepened. Quickly, he forced his widest, cheeriest smile back for the human’s sake. “Sometimes he has his bad days, but he’s a good person! I promise!!”

They were still focused on his brother. Their smile was—

...rather ah, odd, actually. It should have been comforting with how bright it was and how cheerful it _did_ look but all Papyrus felt in his soul was a deep sense of unease and concern. Like maybe he was about to witness something...bad happen.

How strange. How very, very strange.

“Um...” Uncertainty seeped into his bravado, and he found his grip tightening on Sans’s shoulder. For a second he didn’t even think about how that grip could have been too tight—how his brother’s shoulders were weak and he should not be exerting too much pressure—and while he loosened that grip immediately once the possibility blared in his mind like a siren, he hardly felt reassured at the realization that despite that carelessly tight grip, Sans didn’t so much as wince.

His brother’s smile remained impassive as ever, as unmoved as that sturdy stone bridge, but he could see, however brief, a spark in the usually dimmed lights in those dark, dark sockets. Even as he chuckled, there was hardly any reduction of the sheer intensity of that stare directed to the human with their bizarre bright smile.

Neither of them said anything, but it still felt like some kind of exchange—and Papyrus really couldn’t get a handle on either side. It was beyond _strange_.

They just met the human today, and he’s known Sans his entire life. Did he really miss _so_ much when leaving these two alone? It hadn’t even been an... _hour_...?

_Why did that...sound... **w r o n g**...?_

Something happened. Right?

**_But when?_ **

_When, when, **when** _—?__

“...rus...y...rus... _Papyrus_!!”

Papyrus snapped out of it when there was a tight grip on his arm—one that _was_ tight enough to hurt. He blinked upon meeting Sans’s gaze, lights bright and flickering with agitation. His usual smile was downturned slightly at the edges with blatant worry—in that moment, as incredibly rare as such moments were, anyone could read his brother’s expression even if they were just passing by.

“...Sans.”

“Aw, jeez,” Sans sighed and despite quickly smiling again, it didn’t really sound like relief. “You, uh, really spaced out there for a minute, bro. It was really...weird... Are you doing alright, dude?”

Papyrus nods on impulse, but his gaze ends up drifting away from Sans and towards the human looking on with interest and curiosity. There was a glimmer in their auburn gaze, an extra pull to the edges of their smile, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

The human hummed. He hurried to reply to his brother’s inquiry.

“I don’t really know what happened! But I’m fine now??” He really wasn’t certain—but he’s all too happy to go with that possibility. It’d be for the best that he did. “Either way! As I was saying...! Sans is...!”

“Sans is fine.” The human says. And they smile sweetly up at him. Despite that, it doesn’t exactly feel warm. “It’s all fine. There’s no issue here.”

“Oh, that’s good!” _But isn’t there?_ “Well—okay. Let’s move on! The next puzzle is...!”

“San’s, right?” They finish for him. That smile’s still in place but it’s still...strange. But they’re right! He said so earlier—right?

...No, wait, he had. He definitely had! Not too long ago! It really wasn’t like his memory to slip so quickly—Sans could be like that sometimes, with the weird dazes he’d get into, but Papyrus was unused to it. Still, he quickly shoved it in the back of his mind as he nodded cheerfully.

“That is correct! _So_ —!!”

“You can go on ahead,” the human says cheerfully. “Sans and I will catch up later.”

“... _Again_??” It shouldn’t have been a problem. This was his brother’s chance to really talk to the human about whatever happened between them, even if the chance of that happening was astoundingly low. He was willing to give that chance all the same, of course, but—there was still this niggling sense of discomfort about leaving these two alone again. Why not accompany them? That wasn’t a problem, right? _Except..._ “Actually! I was thinking—if it’s alright, then I, the Great Papyrus, would like to talk to my lackadaisical brother for the moment! On the way there! Instead!!”

Sans perked up instantly, a flicker of surprise in his sockets. Even the human blinked a few times before there was a hard pull at their smile.

“Whatever it is can’t wait?”

“It could, but preferably no!” Papyrus replied matter-of-factly. “I do apologize for the inconvenience, human. But it’s important, I swear! And Sans can tell you all the bad jokes you want, later—he has whole books worth in that skull of his, unfortunately for me and fortunately for you! That sounds fair, doesn’t it??”

If it did, then why did that human’s grin look more like a grimace?

...Still.

“Okay then.” Their smile did look, ah, weirdly sharp, but in the very least... “Sure. Sibling talk is very important. I understand that much.”

Papyrus brightened up all the same. In contrast, Sans’s smile was a bit faded and dull as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

* * *

Despite that, after Papyrus did pull his brother away—and Sans allowed it as compliantly as he always did—it wouldn’t be a lie to say that the mood was...still strange. As a matter of fact...

“...Sans. Everything seems to really have been strange recently.”

“...Hmm?”

“It’s really strange! Almost as though the entire day was off—it was normal this morning, wasn’t it?!”

“Wasn’t it?” Sans echoed lightly. Dully, too, like he was just replying because he had to, not because he wanted to or even really had anything to say. It flustered him. And irritated him, too.

“That’s what I asked. Repeating the question is not an answer—and if that question was supposed to be to make a point then I fail to see what point you’re making!” He softened his harsh tone quickly, but his crossness hardly dissipated. “Sans, you’re REALLY not making this easier at all. In fact, _you’ve_ been strange as well!”

Sans blinked back at him, and then he hesitated on smiling back apologetically.

“I...already told you...”

“I KNOW you did,” Papyrus huffed, and he couldn’t keep the mournfulness out of his tone despite his efforts. “But I can’t help but think there’s more to it than that, Sans. Like it’s even _more_ serious.”

“You already worry so much, Paps...” His brother laughed it off. It hurt that he did. “I mean, come on. Have some faith. If it were that bad, I’d...”

“There is something else that’s wrong, isn’t there?” he asked, and Sans flinched, eye sockets going wide and then, as Papyrus sighed, “And...you’re not going to tell me anything... Am I wrong?”

There was the strangest look on his brother’s face.

“...No.” He finally answered directly. Papyrus wasn’t surprised by the response at all. “No, I’m...not. Sorry.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, but he repeated it, through gritted teeth and in a tighter voice, “I’m _sorry_. I...”

He caught his breath, forcing out the shakiest laugh. “I-I wouldn’t...worry about that...”

“Sans, you can tell me anything.” Papyrus asserts, doing his best to keep his tone steady. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Sans deflates. His laugh is considerably rueful as he rubs at the back of his skull. “Yeah, I know. I just... Hey, Papyrus... Can you tell me how I’ve been acting strange?”

“Huh?” What a sudden change in topic. It almost surprised him—but Papyrus didn’t hesitate to tell him. “Well, your mood’s been terrible for one. You can be careless and inconsiderate sometimes, Sans, but you’re not _unkind_.”

“...Unkind, huh...”

“Yes! You’ve been especially rude to the human! They were having trouble and you laughed at them! That really hurt their feelings—and you didn’t seem to care at all!” He insisted, with certainty, “That’s not normal for you at all! You can be a lot of things, but you’re about as mean-spirited as you are energetic! Which is to say—not much if at all!!”

“...Well...” Sans shrugged, like there wasn’t anything to say. Papyrus began to wonder.

“Did that human _say_ something to you while I was gone, Sans?” he asked, worriedly, with a curious tilt of his head, “What did they...do?”

Sans shrugged again. Like there wasn’t anything to say.

“Sans, there _has_ to be a reason for you acting that way towards someone we just met.” Except... “We _did_ just meet that human, right?”

Because.

“I...I think I _might_ have met them before? I feel like I have—but I don’t remember, and I’ve never told you?? It’s strange. It’s really strange! But also, something about it feels so—wrong. Unpleasant. Upsetting...! Maybe... Maybe you also feel the same way...?”

Sans wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Sans, just a yes or no, okay? _Do_ you feel that way? Like you’re forgetting something?”

“No.” Simple. Short. A bit curt. “I don’t.”

For some reason, that wasn’t comforting at all. “So _is_ it just me then??”

Sans shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I doubt you’re the only guy who’s ever felt that way, I just...don’t. I don’t feel that way at all.”

Papyrus felt a stab of aggravation mixed with that unpleasant, upsetting wrong. Even though he can’t see any lies on his brother’s face—and he’s looking best he can for them! Which really kind of makes it worse.

He doesn’t want to doubt Sans’s seriousness. Not now. Not this time and in a situation like this.

_There’s at least **something**_ _he isn’t telling me._ That much he was sure about. Perhaps if he figures that much out...!

“Have _you_ met that human before?”

Sans doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even react. But Papyrus can tell he’s onto something here.

“Maybe you two _knew_ one another?”

Slowly, Sans begins to turn towards him.

“And perhaps something happened between you and them...”

Slowly. Slowly but surely. Papyrus pushes on.

“And!! If that’s true, then you should tell me! That way I can help—”

Surely, surely, **_surely_** —

“...make things _right_ between...!”

He stops. Because of the way Sans is _looking_ at him.

That smile is distortedly wide, but is trembling along the edges. The lights in his sockets are wider, too, and only look as bright as they do because of how dark those sockets are around them, and how deep the shadows look underneath. It’s bright the same way light is at the end of its lifespan in a dark, dark room.

“Sans, that’s just unfair.” He says, soft and wavering. “Don’t... Don’t _look_ at me like—”

Sans averted his gaze. Like he was ashamed. That just made it worse.

“...Ugh. You’re hopeless.” Papyrus groaned, but with a sigh, he tried his best to smile it off. “But we can talk about this later after the human’s captured. It can’t be helped if the mood’s not right at this moment.”

Sans shrugged a bit helplessly. Then, seeming to think it over, he said instead, “Sure thing, bro.”

That got Papyrus perking up, startled, and immediately exclaiming, hands clasped together and hope sparkling in his bright gaze, “So you’ll talk to me then, Sans?! Really?! You _REALLY_ will?!?!”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sans met that gaze evenly, normal smile tacked back on. “After we capture the human, I’ll tell you everything, bro. Anything you want.”

“T-That...!” Papyrus faltered, furrowing his brow in suspicion. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“Well.” Sans chuckles, shrugging again—but with his usual ease and nonchalance. “It’s the truth.”

Papyrus’s frown deepened, and with a straightened, no-nonsense posture as he folded his arms tight, he demanded, in no complicated terms, “Promise me, then. You’ll have to swear it, brother, and I won’t believe you with anything less!”

“Okay.” Sans doesn’t miss a beat. Doesn’t even hesitate. “Promise.”

Papyrus instantly latched onto him, hugging Sans tight with a squeal. “I just KNEW you’d come around!! Don’t you worry, brother, I won’t let you down!! We’ll capture that human, deliver them to the capital, and then talk! FINALLY!!”

It took his brother a while to hug him back, but he kept his spirits up, giving Sans an affectionate nuzzle. Sans did chuckle at that, however lightly and airily. Papyrus squeezed him tighter.

Sans, upon noticing a brief flash of yellow off to the distance, close by one of the snowpoffs, went still. By that point, Papyrus was pulling away, moving to hurry along forward, exclaiming at him to keep up—that they can’t be beaten by the human to his own puzzle. Excited and spirited—far more than he usually would have been.

It should be a bit of a relief. It was. To an extent. But Sans still kicked at the snow with a sharp swing of his slipper before trailing after him. He kept a sharp lookout for anything else and all the while, grasped at that imagined scar on his chest as he felt his soul throb.

* * *

He was still able to laugh off Papyrus yelling at him for the ‘puzzle’. He still put in a bit of smugness in his tone when the kid, rather than just passing by it as per usual instead plucked it off the ground. They looked it over—Sans wondered if they remembered what it looked like. In the very least, they did look like they vaguely remembered where the words were...and with the way they frowned, Sans could easily guess their eyes were on that top row.

Papyrus grumbled a bit more even still—but then, with a sigh, he muttered, “Well if they like word puzzles, they can’t be _that_ bad...”

“You think so?” he asked with a laugh. It was a bit tense.

Papyrus looked at him oddly but was still far too eager to address the human once he spotted them approaching. Even with that groan directed towards him that—“Ugh— _Sans_!! That didn’t stop them!!”

“Uh... Whoops. Perhaps I should’ve...”

_...What am I supposed to say here? Junior Jumble, right? That doesn’t feel right—_

He noticed that Chara had stopped, and that they were staring at him oddly—just like Papyrus had been earlier. Their eyes looked more brown than red like that—but their typical rosy-cheeked grin remained in place, even as they tilted their head like a curious puppy. He shrank back, pulling the collar of his shirt up to duck further into it, and it’s something else that he didn’t even feel his own smile twitch as he did.

“Well, no matter!!” Papyrus was exclaiming, and if there was anything weird about it, he stubbornly ignored it, “Human!! The next puzzle will _surely_ —!”

“Sans.”

Their voice—that call of his name had him perking up immediately. The lights in his eye sockets flickered, and now there was a twitch at the corner of his grin.

“Kid,” he says, and there’s another twitch. “It’s, uh, rude to _cut in_ when someone’s already talking.”

But now Papyrus was looking at him as well. Sharply. Intensely.

Aw _jeez_.

Chara crumbled the word search in their grasp. In only a couple of quick skips forward, their free hand reached out and dug pudgy little fingers into his coat. He thinks about the dust catching only the fabric, and the dust under their grimy fingernails.

And then he realized that the amount of dust on them is _hardly_ that much more than it had been on their ‘first’ meeting.

His soul pulses. He didn’t dare think past that.

There’s something knowing about the way the kid smiles up at him—there’s something about the way there’s a glimmer in their gaze, and about the way he sees his reflection, filtered by that red-brown that seems just so very _cheery_.

“Human.”

Sans flinched. He vaguely notices that the human has dropped the crumpled up paper, and that said paper continues to make crinkly little noises as it sails to the ground.

“You can just go on ahead,” the kid tells his brother, all while giving the grip they had on his coat a slight tug. “He’ll just catch on you on the _flipside_ , okay?”

Papyrus blinked back and then retorted, loudly and harshly, “That’s for _Sans_ to tell me!! You really shouldn’t speak for other people WITHOUT their permission!”

“Ehehe,” Chara giggles, otherwise unaffected. “Fair enough.” Then they look at him, bright stare piercingly expectant. “Sans?”

Papyrus suddenly looked rather troubled. Sans blinked and then quickly grinned. But as he was about to respond or at least say something because he kind of had to, _again_ —

“There’s nothing wrong with The Great Papyrus sticking around.” With a huff and a puff of his chest, his cool brother proclaimed, “Last time I left you two alone, something clearly went wrong!! It’d be _irresponsible_ of me to allow that yet again!”

Chara’s grip tightened to the point that he could feel those dusty fingers scrape against his ribs. But their smile still seemed stubbornly locked into place, even as the reds in those browns seemed to _blaze_.

“Actually,” Sans says, cheerfully, with a widened grin. “That sounds great, bro. But are you sure you’ll be able to lag behind longer than what you’re used to? We’re both a bit on the slow side, so, uh...”

“Then I can help you two keep up the pace!!” Papyrus exclaimed simply, with a cross of his arms and head held up high. “I’ll take into account the unfortunate shortness of both of your legs, of course! It could help you both to improve what you can!”

“If you say so,” Sans shrugs, and then winks at his brother in admiration. “You’re so cool, bro.”

“But of COURSE! Nyehehe!”

Chara notes Sans’s smile softening in response to that obnoxious laughter. They purse their lips and then, with a sharp little smile and high-pitched, harsh little giggle, they tightened their grip on his coat just a tad. “Okay then. This is _fine_. Do what you want.”

“Righty-o!” Papyrus points ahead dramatically, one hand on his hip. “Then! Sans! Human! ONWARD!!”

“...Right...”

“Sure thing, bro.”

Once his brother’s back was turned, and he loudly lead the way, Sans smacked the kid’s hand away. But as he brushes by to follow after his brother, Chara snatched his arm with a smile that looked more like a sneer.

“We wouldn’t want your brother to see you not _playing nice_ , right?” they remind him softly, sweetly. _Dangerously_. All while Papyrus couldn’t overhear. “Especially when he’s looking considerably bright. And—much more enthusiastic than before, I’d say.”

“You’re right.” Sans agrees easily, even as his sockets narrow. “It’s much easier to have fun with people who _play along_. Ain’t that right, kiddo?”

Chara smiles back, mirroring his grin and showing their teeth.

“... _SANS_! _HUMAN_!”

Papyrus turned back towards the two, brow furrowed. Cocking his head to the side, hand on his hip again, he stared questioningly back. “You two _are_ coming, right??”

“Of course, bro, sorry, we’re just...” Sans paused. Because he felt those thin arms wrap around his own, with the kid giving his arm a hug-like squeeze. He doesn’t even look at them as he quickly resumes. “We’re just on the slow side, remember? We’re coming, we’re coming.”

Then, with a grumble, he muttered to them, “You really like _pushing_ it, don’t you?”

In response, Chara lightly and playfully pulls on his arm and gives a nod to both him and to Papyrus.

And without anything else, the two move forward.

Sans doesn’t think about his brother’s narrowed, rather suspicious stare before he seemingly brushes it off. It’s fine. Fine, fine, fine.

...if a bit on the irritating side.

* * *

“ARGH!!! WHAT _IS_ THIS?!?! Did the dog do this?!”

With a hum, Sans cupped his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed the scene for anything else suspect. It all seemed normal—save for the tangled mess of seeming roots and vines depressing the switch. “If so, that’s a really impressive dog.”

“Well at least the puzzle itself is intact!” Though Papyrus gives a heavy sigh. “Urgh, but it was just _fine_ this morning, right? This is so weird...”

“Isn’t it?” Sans asks lightly. His brother didn’t respond to that—focusing instead on thorough observation on this puzzle and the one a little ways ahead. He already shouted that he wouldn’t stray too far away, and that if either of them needed something then just to holler.

“It _is_ weird, though,” Sans found himself musing. When Chara hummed and squeezes his arm tighter, he asked, with a casual air, “You uh, wouldn’t know anything about this, right kid?”

They looked at him, innocuously, and simply giggled. “You don’t need me to get the _root_ of this particular mystery.”

“...Heh.” With a shrug, he muttered, half to himself, “Probably not.”

Chara hummed, tracing the line of bone through sleeve. Index finger against radius; thumb against ulna. Head settled against humerus. Urgh. _Gross_.

Then he picked up on the kid’s muddled mumbling. They sounded like numbers. Fifteen, he thinks he heard. He wonders.

“How many have you killed since you got here, kiddo?”

“Two.” Their finger digs through the sleeve between radius and ulna. Curiously, though their tone is a bit stiff. Almost furiously, they begin twisting their wrist, wrapping their finger in his sleeve, and making the fabric rustle uncomfortably against his bones. “Just two.”

“...Urgh.” He grimaced, covering his face as though sickened. He wasn’t surprised, but he was still a little...

...disappointed?

He should be impressed that it was only that little. But it mattered about the same unless...

“So... Uh.” There was really no point, right? He doesn’t _have_ to bother. It’s just curiosity. Curiosity. With a little bit of traitorous hope that even he’s surprised he hasn’t yet grinded it to dust under his heel. “When, exactly, are you going to— _if_ you’re going to—?”

The kid didn’t even seem that respondent as he ended up trailing off. Instead, they were focused on jabbing their fingers through his sleeve, through that gap between his bones. It was really...

“Kid.”

**_...really..._ **

“ _Kid_.”

They dug their fingers in harder, and fabric scraped against him painfully. Not by much, not that bad—but... _But_.

_That’s really **ridiculously** uncomfortable._

“Cut it _out_ , Chara.”

Chara’s head jerked up at the same time he yanked his arm away, rubbing at the abused, nearly punctured part of his sleeve in irritation. Chara, blinking dazedly back at him, their outstretched fingers still twitching, finally pulled their hand back and scratched at the back of their neck. Sans noted, vaguely, that the motions were still rough—most likely still painful.

They still seemed a bit out of it. It took a while for their usual smile to return, and it was then they finally had the gall to look embarrassed.

“Ehehe... Sorry about that, Sans. It’s just... Well...” With a heavy huff, they explained. “It was only two. Two dogs, in fact. There are two dogs just up ahead as well, right? A married couple—and despite their usual ah, symmetrical synchronization,” They giggled, perhaps at their own word choice or—“They react _veeeery_ differently when the other is killed. I think that’s funny. Don’t you?”

“I think you’re disgusting.” Sans retorted as simply as that. Then, with a harsh laugh, he asks, “Are you thinking about killing them in front of Papyrus?”

“...No.” That smile on their face brightened. “But now I am. How do you think he’d react to that, Sans? To me killing someone in front of him? I’ve seen how he reacts when it’s _you_ —but I like to think your death would have a significantly different impact. Especially when it’s for the purpose of supposedly protecting him. Especially when it was unintentional. I didn’t want you dead, you know. Not then. Not at that time.”

“Wow, how do you _stand_ being so gross?” With a giggle at that response, they shifted in place. Swayed a bit. They dug their nails into their nape. Sans’s sockets narrowed. Then, with a chuckle of his own, his eyes fell shut. “Thing is, uh... Well. There’s really one thing I want to know right now. It’s quite simple.”

He opened one eye socket in a wink. Said socket was his left, and they saw that brief, flicker of neon blue and yellow right _before_ —

**_DING._ **

“When, **_e x a c t l y_** , are we going to stop **p l a y i n g n i c e**?”

Chara burst into more of those giggles. They continued to titter even as they clutched where he had their soul in his cold, dark blue grasp. What little good that did. They couldn’t stop him from flinging their ragdoll body _wherever he wished_. No defense. Whatsoever.

God. Oh _god_.

Sans’s grin widened as he waited for their response. They kept trembling in exhilarated delight, their own smile shaking as it grew wider and wider, indents digging harshly into their rosy cheeks.

Any second now. With just the flick of his wrist—he could seriously hurt them like he had earlier. Either by throwing them against those trees or—careening off the side of the cliff, perhaps? That did look like quite the drop off to the left—only more of those trees to cushion their fall instead of flowers.

That’d be such an annoying climb back up, but there was such a thrill that came with _falling_ —

_“Oh, you’ve fallen down, haven’t you?”_

And then, just like that, an idea struck.

“Do it.” They whispered, fevered and harsh. “I swear I will kill him if you don’t. The second he gets back and the second I’m able—I’ll go straight for _him_. Do it, Sans. Do it do it do it—! I’ll _scream_ —!”

The grip on their pulsing soul dissipated like smoke in the air. Their eyes went wide, and Sans pulled out his hands from his pockets to give the biggest, easiest shrug.

“ _Nah_. I mean, I was already bluffing just to see what’d happen—but like hell I’d do whatever you told me to with _that_ kind of gross expression.” With a snort, he laughs at them as their trembles begin anew. “I mean, yeesh, not even a _please_? Man. Where _are_ your manners?”

“I’ll kill him.” They repeat, swearing. “I’ll kill him, I’ll _kill_ him—”

“Then you’ll do so over my dust. Like last time.” He winks. “Alright?”

“You’re not seriously **_alright_** with that...!” Chara balked and it was just the _funniest fucking thing_. “You can’t seriously tell me that...”

“I’m not. You’re right—I’m not alright with it at all.” Sans sighs, shaking his head. That smile looks considerably tired, but it’s not a satisfying sight at all. “But uh, thing is, it’s not like you’re giving me a _choice_ , kid. This is just what I’m stuck with regardless, right?”

Chara bristled.

“...No.” They huffed. “Not right. There’s another way and you know it.”

“Yeah, no.” If Sans had the features, they’d be twisting. “I already _told_ you, kid—”

“I know, I know,” the kid griped in annoyance, twisting the edge of their sweater. “I was just reminding you.” Suddenly, that smile returned, albeit with sharpened edges. “But if this is the way you want to continue...”

Pulling out the knife, pointing it towards them with that widening smirk, they said, simply and resoundingly, “Die. Quickly, preferably.”

Sans only sighs as they rush towards them.

“And you had been doing _so_ well.”

He dodges that first strike with well-practiced ease.

“But uh, I guess you really aren’t the kind of person who can change after all?”

They sidestep the bones—he sidesteps their next swipe.

“Then again... Something about this, even though it’s par for the course, is also kind of unusual...”

The next time they try to slice him, he teleports a few paces away. He meets their gaze, smoothly and coolly.

“This is actually _different_ than what’s usual, isn’t it? Because, uh, that look on your face—” He tilts his head, lights in his eye sockets flickering peculiarly. Like the sight was curious. “I don’t think you’re actually _trying_ to kill me this time? I dunno. It’s weird either way.”

Immediately, Chara rushed for him again. It went the same, he sidestepped and evaded each swipe of that toy knife. And then the kid took him off-guard when those grimy fingers managed to latch onto his jacket while he’d been focused on the other hand with the weapon.

Just like that, he was shoved down, and despite the kid throwing all their weight into it, the snow still caught his fall when he landed flat on his back. He’d been too surprised to even teleport—and said surprise lasted a few seconds _way_ too long.

All it took was one precise slam against his sternum to have him choking out and everything around him shaken from the sudden, sharp pain. All he registered was that it had been with the toy’s hilt, held in between both of the kid’s hands—and that it **_hurt like hell_**.

It hadn’t been enough to knock him unconscious but—it took a while to focus his sight again. For everything to stop blurring together, even as the painful throbbing didn’t stop as he let out a wretched groan. The pain only got worse when he pulled himself up, and his sternum burned under his hand.

It didn’t feel chipped, at least.

...But hadn’t the kid been pinning him down? _Where...?_

Sans blinked a few times, smacking the sides of his skull both to help focus his sight and distract himself with a different pain. He looked around. Footprints dotted the landscape from his ‘fight’ with the kid—and more of that kid’s tiny footprints where leading away from where he currently was.

The actual kid was nowhere in sight.

“...Oh, shit.”

“.... ** _SANS_**?!?!!?”

Papyrus. Sounding horrified and upset.

_Shit, shit, **shit** —!!_

“What HAPPENED?!” His brother was by his side so quickly, and didn’t even look tired from the exertion. Instead he was staring down at him, gaze bugging and his jaw locking at the sight. But he quickly recovered. “You’re not just taking a nap, are you?”

“Well, the uh, snow looked soft...” His grin felt more like a grimace—and Papyrus saw that. But Sans hoped he could at least overlook that, even as he flinched and—“I dunno where the human went—but don’t worry, bro. I’ll go find...”

Papyrus grabbed his arm, and pulled his hand away from where it had been clutching where he’d been hit. Deftly, before Sans could even say his name, his brother took the edge of his shirt in his other hand and immediately yanked it up.

As a skeleton, Sans couldn’t feel the cold, not even against bared bones. Still, he froze as his brother’s frown deepened.

“Your sternum’s badly bruised. The human did this, didn’t they?” Papyrus spoke, slowly and yet so surprisingly steady. “This wasn’t an accident.”

Sans didn’t answer. But his looking away with an awkward laugh was more than enough. He still flinched as he felt Papyrus’s gloved hand gingerly press against the bruise. Sans didn’t pull away from that, but he did avoid his brother’s unfairly apologetic gaze for causing him that slight twinge of pain.

“...Let me...” Papyrus soon mumbled, and shut his eye sockets tight to focus. That pain soon faded as both the injury and his brother’s hand was bathed in a warm, calm green. Sans could almost feel that bruise dissolving, like particles of dust brushed away by the wind—in a good way, of course.

It didn’t take long for that bruise to fully disappear. His brother’s healing magic was something else. And normally, he’d tell him that. Normally, he’d praise him for it—and damn was it something so _deserving_ of praise—

“I ended up held up a little while because the dog couple was... I never could have imagined that in that time you two would get into a fight!!” He wasn’t even listening to Papyrus’s babbling. Not really. “While we look for the human, you HAVE to tell me what happened, Sans—!”

...that kid. **_Right._**

Sans yanked his hand away. The action is so surprising that Papyrus lets him go, and all Sans can give him is one vacant, pained little smile despite being perfectly healed.

“...Sans?”

“Sorry, bro,” is all he can add before he’s gone with the chilly breeze.

* * *

Chara finds three monsters fairly quickly all in one place. They might have been chatting, they might have been joking, they might have been a family but Chara didn’t hesitate in striking each and every one of them down. The dust filtered the air, making their eyes sting all over again, but they couldn’t stop their smiling from growing and growing with each new EXP encounter—and each terrified face looking at them as though they were a demon.

As far as they’re concerned, it’s nothing short of _relieving_. It had been too long—with too little kills in between. It had felt so wrong. So, so _wrong_.

This was better. This was right. They couldn’t stop laughing as the EXP screamed, screamed, screamed.

Some of them were telling others to run—and that—that was so _hilarious_ that they had to _rush_ after those monsters. The ones those others wanted to escape, wanted safe. When it was all pointless, pointless, pointless, and _they were aaaaaall dust in the air anyway_!

“This is what happens when you love,” they murmur into a drake’s ear—or where they assumed that ear was. They dig their toy knife in deeper, listening and tittering at the guttural roars of pain it let out, “You get hurt. You get so HURT when you LOVE...!!”

They released that drake soon enough, because it was already dissolving into dust like the rest. Like all of the rest.

...Had they already run out of encounters in this area?

Blood still pumped through their veins with just as red-hot DETERMINATION, and Chara was quick to move onto the next area. They know they had to have more monsters to track down.

The number they killed _had_ to be less than thirteen. They’re sure of it. Sure of it. They did a mental check twice just to be sure—mentally calculating their EXP and LV on the side as well. They even counted on their fingers. Once, twice...

_How far did they get from Sans...? How many feet? How many yards? How many steps?_

...They weren’t quite sure. But they quickened their steps to get just a little bit further. Just in case. Just in case.

Just. In. Case.

With how long they had to wait—with how long that **_stupid_** maze took—they deserved one _more_ **_kill_** —!

One of the monsters was calling out a name. Chara followed that voice, hastening their pace, unable to muffle their own giggles as—

_DING._

They didn’t even have to wait a heartbeat before they were flung into the trunk of one of the trees. Their side slammed into the bark, but that wasn’t so bad—and then they were thrown back onto the ground and back into the tree and back again and again and _again_ —

It was as dizzying as it was thrilling. They could have gotten _chills_ from just the force of that cold, cold magical soul-grip’s _aura_. They were giggling and it hurt, and they had to spit out a dollop of blood into the snow.

There was a new gap in their teeth. Perhaps one was knocked out. That made them grin even wider as they turned around, eyes alit in glee at Sans’s stone-still figure. If not for his eye, flickering with flames of both yellow and cyan, he wouldn’t have looked alive. Even his outstretched hand towards them was unmoving.

Then, oh so slowly, that hand drew back to bury itself into his pocket alongside the other, and Sans let out a heavy sigh.

“You sure don’t waste any time, huh?”

“Ehe. I wouldn’t say that. I’ve been nice up until this point, haven’t I?” they ask cheerfully, with that wide, bloodied grin. “If anything, I should be saying that to _you_. You must have gotten so **_angry_** when you saw me!”

“Well, you’re pretty intolerable.” He replied, voice tight and with tightened edges of his own smile. He took a step forward. “In _suffer_ able, I’d say. Everyone’s got their limits.”

“Well,” Chara echoed with a chirp, pushing theirself up on shaky legs as they tried to quickly regain their balance, even as they laughed, “Are you really saying this is where your limits are? Or have I already crossed them long ago?”

“Long, long ago.” Sans said simply. Curtly. “This didn’t even surprise me. I know what you’re capable of, and I also know you might just be _incapable_ of changing.”

“Rude. I...” They have to cough. Both dust and blood. It hurts even more but they regain their breath quickly enough, _happily_ enough. “I haven’t _always_ been this way. It’s just how things are now. It’s inevitable. Unavoidable. You can either accept it, go along with it, or...”

Clutching their toy tighter, they once against pointed it towards him with a choked up laugh that could have been a sob. “You can keep uselessly fighting against it. It’s your _choice_ , Sans.”

Sans stared back, and the magic in his eye died down as his voice dropped to a low, low tone. “Do you even _know_ what that word means?”

Chara rushed at him. Like before, he sidestepped their slice, dodged their jab, and when they swung the plastic knife with air-cutting force, he had already teleported behind them. They would have spun around to swing at him again, repeat the pattern again and again and—

**_DING_ **

Except. Sans grabbed their wrist before they could. And before they knew it, he had shoved them down onto the ground himself. On their stomach, with their knife-holding arm, still with the toy knife in its grasp, twisted painfully around their back—with _Sans_ holding it down, a bone-crushing grip on their wrist.

Sans wasn’t heavy on top of them. But they felt his _grip_ on their **_SOUL_** , making their body feel so, so much heavier than it was supposed to be. A stark increase in gravity on them, perhaps?

How clever. _What a good compensation for lack of brute physical strength!_

Chara giggled, even as it came out garbled. “Sans, you really _are_ something else. In spite of everything, you’re _good_ at this.”

“Ugh.” Sans used his other hand to press their head harder into the snow. Hard enough that their noise was almost crushed against solid ground. Their trembling under him increased, and not entirely due to the cold. They couldn’t stop giggling. They only vaguely hear his disgusted mutter in response. “For god’s sake, **_just_**...”

They heard buzzes and whirls—familiar sounds. Those usually indicated the summoning of those _damn_ blasters. How many were floating above them? They could almost also hear the sizzling build of magic—they could almost smell it _burning_ the air, through all the dirt, frost, dust, and blood.

_God, god, **god** —_

“Do it,” they whispered fervently. “Do it, do it, _please_ —“

**“B e _q u i e t_.”**

Sharp. Cold. So, so _final_. And yet, they heard the continual build, the sparks of magic, and Sans muttering, repeating, straining. “Just be **_quiet_** already—”

Chara held their breath, shut their eyes, and...

Someone called Sans’s name. His brother. Papyrus. They could feel Sans flinch over them, and then—

Just as they were about to lose it, the blasters still went off. With their low HP from before, they didn’t stand a chance, especially not with them helplessly pinned down the way they were.

The burn only lasted a second, but they died with the widest smile on their face.

And something broke.

* * *

The blasters dissipated almost immediately after firing but...it had been too late by then. Too late. He could have laughed at that. It didn’t matter, _it didn’t matter_ —

There was a disgusting burnt stench hanging in the air, overpowering the scent of magic, of cold, of even the dust. He didn’t know how to describe it—no more so than the charcoal-blackened thing he was still pinning down. His mitten may have had plastic melted onto it—but they were kind of ruined already, with the slight singe from the blast.

It was gross. So, so gross, but Sans didn’t...feel...anything. His sockets were empty—voids of nothing but darkness piled onto darkness, with even his smile surely twisted but still so vacant. He didn’t _feel anything_ , but...

Papyrus stared on in horror. In such, such horror.

“...Sans...”

“Bro.” He returned, blankly like with everything else. His brother shook, gaze flittering between him and the corpse. Like he wasn’t sure which was worse. Hm. _They were about the same, right?_

“What... What did you...?” Papyrus swallowed, even though he didn’t need to. But he also looked sick. _Huh_. Sans had never really seen his brother sick before. At least not in years. “What did you _do_ , Sans?!”

“I...Isn’t it obvious?” After a while, he said, much more smoothly albeit still so dully, “It’s exactly what it _looks_ like, Papyrus. I don’t know what you expect me to say?”

Papyrus blinked. Then his face twisted into something—something that did have Sans almost jerk back, almost snap out of it, but then his brother’s expression was simply hardened resolve.

“Get BACK!!” he shouted, pushing him aside, and in doing so making his mitten slip off since the plastic of that toy had melted onto it. Maybe he lost a slipper too, he wasn’t quite sure. He already instinctively wrapped his other hand around his now bared one, unused to the lack of cover. Papyrus was already carefully flipping the body over, jaw tight as the air once again sparked with magic.

Then, even with the heightened glow in his sharpened gaze, his brother faltered almost immediately with—“I can’t feel their SOUL anywhere...!”

“Yeah...” Sans mumbled, blinking drearily at the sight. “Yeah that’s a really annoying habit of theirs.”

Papyrus jerked to face him. To really, really face him and—

He’s never looked so lost and confused. And it really looks like his normally assured bro has no _idea_ what else to feel. Concerned, disturbed, alarmed, maybe even scared—but one thing that was clear was that above all else, Papyrus was beyond _upset_.

And finally Sans realized that pit in his non-existent stomach couldn’t have been anything but shame. All because with everything he’s done, with everything he’s pushed so hard against in spite of it all, he still somehow managed to be so careless that he let his big-hearted brother witness him _kill someone_.

“...Shit.” He cursed and then covered his face and began to rattle as he muttered to himself, with pained humor and a good amount of grief, “What the hell was I even _thinking_ , _what even the **hell** was I_ —?”

“...Sans!” Papyrus took his shoulders, giving a shake of his own, but to once again snap him out of it. He didn’t uncover his face but, Papyrus’s voice came through, with only the slightest of tremors. “We... We HAVE to tell Undyne about this... She...” Then he began to stammer. “She doesn’t have to know...what EXACTLY happened but... We have to say something and then...”

“You wanna talk about this?” Sans asks, unmoving and unchanging his position. Except his palms soon pressed even harder into his gritting teeth. “What is there even to **_s a y_** about this, Papyrus?”

“I don’t know!” Papyrus exclaimed. “I... I don’t even know if this is REALLY happening right now, Sans! But I’m—“

_...wait..._

“I can’t just STAND BY if it is real and if—”

_...that’s right..._

“...if it is... Then we _have_ to...!! H-Have to...!!”

_They’ll just reset soon anyway. This..._

“Do ** _something_**!! We have to do _something_! Right? _RIGHT_?!”

**_This doesn’t even matter._ **

“ _SANS_!!!” Papyrus was shaking him again. Sans pulled his hands away and grinned up at him. It must have looked like he was trying to save face, even when Papyrus was sniffling, sockets screwed tight and welling up with tears. His grip on his shoulders was so tight, and said grip was shaking. Papyrus was shaking. Shaking so much that he was now the one rattling. “Sans... _Sans_... I just... I just...”

“Go get Undyne, alright?” Sans found himself saying. Carefully, he cupped his brother’s jaw. Thankfully he didn’t smear any ash onto him—that would have just made Papyrus feel worse. Sans didn’t want that. He kept his voice firm, even as he urged. “Get Undyne. She’ll handle...this. And then after that... We...” He put his calm smile into his tone, since Papyrus still had his sockets shut tight, brimming with tears, and he likely wouldn’t be able to see his expression. Maybe that was for the better. “We’re going to have to talk. But... We’ll get through this, okay? We’ll get through this, Papyrus. Okay? Okay, bro?”

Papyrus let out a wrenching sob. With a gentle shush, Sans brushed some of those tears away with his bare hand. He took care to be especially delicate. This was what Papyrus needed right now.

“S-Sans...” Still weeping. Still rattling. He sniffled again, loudly and inelegantly. “I don’t understand...!! I don’t—!”

“I understand.” Sans said. He gave a rueful laugh. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in this. I didn’t want that. But it... It can’t be helped now. All we can do is just move forward...”

_...until the kid resets._

_Because then, it won’t matter anymore._

**_Doesn’t that sound nice?_ **

“Ugh. You’re right. You’re _right_ —I seriously can’t believe this.” Papyrus was muttering irritably, pressing his palm into one of his sockets. The glove did little to soak up the tears but his bro finally managed to lock his trembling jaw into place. For a moment. Then, with an especially unusual amount of quietness, he began to ask. “Sans. Did that human... Did they try to...? Because, if they—it’s not your fault in that case. I just wish you stayed with me, then. I could have spoken to them. This didn’t _have_ to happen.”

There was a tight, almost guttural way he got those words out. It would have been real humorous in other circumstances. But Sans still chuckled, even if he wasn’t really sure if he meant it or not.

“It can’t be helped now.” He repeats, because it’s really the only thing to say to that. He’s a lot better about keeping his voice steady in this situation—but he’s not entirely sure if that’s a good thing, either. “Papyrus, just... Just get Undyne. Okay? We’ll uh,” Muttering, doing his damnedest to not sound irritated himself, he finished with, “We’ll talk about this. After. You have my word. Once you return, we’ll...”

He couldn’t fully finish. But this was still enough. There was a slight tremble in his hands as he finally pulled them back, and Papyrus let out a heavy sigh.

“We’ll talk about this, Sans.” Papyrus repeats as well—but unsurprisingly it sounds so much firmer and resolute. Sans can’t help but earnestly smile at that, maybe in relief maybe not—but Papyrus’s normally bright expression remains grim. He gets to his feet, and... “Sans this time, _for the love of Asgore_ , just stay here. Make sure no one comes near the...the human. We can’t disturb them before Undyne arrives. But we _have_ to...”

“I’ll keep an eye socket out for them, no worries,” Sans waves him off. “Godspeed, bro. I’ll wait here.”

Papyrus made a face but he quickly turned away. Sans still felt that pang all the same, and his smile faded as his brother sped off. Really impressive speed—he couldn’t have kept up even if he actually tried.

...Well. It shouldn’t be too much longer either way. _Although..._

Sans reached back to pull up his hood, tucking his knees under his chin with a sigh.

The kid was taking their sweet time resetting. Did it always take _this_ long? Maybe he’s just gotten impatient because he knows he’d really rather not face Papyrus _and_ Undyne after something like this. Especially if the latter was also going to try and be _understanding_ about all this. Like either of them understood anything about _all of this_.

It didn’t matter. The kid would reset soon enough.

...Right?

No, they _had_ to. They wouldn’t seriously give up after this—he _knows_ they wouldn’t. In fact, that kid might understand the concept of giving up about as well as they understood the concept of _choices_. He wouldn’t be surprised. They’re just too... **_DETERMINED_**.

It’s so tiring. But what is he supposed to do?

Well, for starters.

“I can’t let Papyrus see something like that again,” he muttered against his arms as he folded them atop his knees. “If nothing else, I _can’t_ be that careless. Something like that is the last thing Papyrus needs to see.”

“ _Really_?” A giggle, high-pitched and with a bounce to the tone. Even as it turned into a hiss. “But it was so _unbelievably_ entertaining watching you screw up _that_ badly!”

Sans perked up, glancing in the direction of that voice. Blankly, he met Flowey’s bright grin. He saw the flower’s gaze flicker towards the corpse, and then how that grin widened and sharpened.

“I have to say, even for a trash bag, you _really_ know how to make a mess. I mean, _shucks_!” He giggled again. “And I thought your earlier kill was brutal—this was so vicious that _I’m_ impressed! And here I thought I’d already seen everything you’re capable of! You’ve _never_ been this bloodthirsty _before_!”

Sans thought about all the other ways he killed that kid that this flower seemed to be weirdly unaware of, and he shrugged. But he didn’t say anything about it.

“Aw, now don’t be so modest,” Flowey cooed. “I know that sad sack act is really convincing for everyone else, but I’m not having it right now. You’re finally _interesting_ and not **_infuriating_** —I really have to know what Chara did to you.”

And what kind of question was that? Shouldn’t it have been obvious?

“What’s that look for?” Flowey asked with a cute tilt of his head. “Golly, you—you’re giving me such a _stupid_ look right now.”

Sans just blinked. For a brief second, he looked back at the kid—at the contrast of black ash against pure white snow—and quickly averted his stare downward. He could still tell that Flowey noticed. He laughed again, a little more hysterically and shrilly, like whatever he noticed was too funny for him to even fully comprehend.

“You know the best part about all this? It wasn’t you, of course. It was your brother. Dear, sweet, stupidly good _Papyrus_.” That _did_ get Sans’s attention, and Flowey seemed to revel in that. He went on, cruelly and happily. “He always believes the best in everyone even when they’re trying to kill him. Even if I was breaking his bones one by one, he never stopped swearing up and down that I could be good, that he _believed_ in me. It’s as pathetic as it is so, so STUPID. But, hey, there is something admirable about a guy that stubborn even in that kind of a situation. There was a reason why he was usually one of my favorites to play around with.” Then, upon innocently blinking back at Sans’s dark, dark stare, Flowey quickly laughed that off light-heartedly. “I wasn’t horrible to him every _single_ time; relax! I mean, yeah I _was_ pretty bad sometimes... But... What about you?”

Sans still didn’t say anything. But he did look unimpressed. Flowey could tell that much.

Whatever. He could talk for however long he liked with how much time Chara was giving them.

“I mean!” Flowey exclaims with a bounce to his stem. “I _see_ how you talk to Papyrus—I see how you _treat_ him. You’re really something else. You’re so eager to stroke your brothers ego with god knows how many sappy words of praise, with all those sickeningly admiring looks—but the second Papyrus inches way too close to a subject you’re not comfortable with, you don’t hesitate to _play him like a fiddle_.”

He can’t help but giggle even more into his leaves. The more and more he thought about it, the better and worse it looked.

“It’s pretty terrible, honestly.” Though the way Flowey said it, it sounded so _great_. “Your stupid brother already has a heart bigger than all of Underground, but he makes just so much room for _you_ in particular, and if nothing else, you know how to take advantage of that. Just one sad face, some insincere apologies and promises you can’t keep, and Papyrus will lap up whatever nonsense you feed him. You keep him close while also keeping your distance. That... That’s really something else!” Suddenly, with a grotesquely wide grin, all teeth and nothing else, Flowey says, “You’re so much worse than I thought. You’re a _real_ sicko.”

Sans, slowly, adjusted the way he sat into something more comfortable. In simple, nonchalant motions, he dusted off some of the snow that stuck to his shorts. And then his coat. And then...

“You’re not even going to bother denying it?” Flowey asks sweetly. Sans still picked up on the undercurrents of threat. “Wow, you _are_ lazy. Can’t even muster up a defense! But I wonder if that means that it’s all true. That you manipulate your tender-hearted brother for your own means—that you have no qualms taking advantage of his compassion if that’s what it took—can you even imagine how poor Papyrus would feel if he found _that_ out?”

“Well.” Sans says. Still slowly and nonchalantly. “You already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

Flowey stills with surprise that he actually responded.

And with that calm, infuriatingly sad smile, he went on. “You already know what it’s like to be on that receiving end, don’t you, Your Highness?”

“...What the hell...” Flowey sputtered. He laughed, but it sounded distorted. “Now you’re trying to manipulate _me_ , smiley trash bag? **_Seriously_**? Are you stupid? It’s not going to work—”

“Am I wrong?” Sans’s bare hand curled where it was pressed into the snow. Sans didn’t feel the cold from that. Not really.

“Sh...Shut up...” Flowey was stammering, looking awfully flustered. “Shut up, shut up—I _know_ what you’re trying to do!”

“I’m asking a question.” Sans says, flatly and matter-of-factly. But he still had that look. That stupid, _stupid_ disgusting look of **pity**. _After everything!_ “I mean, you don’t have to answer right now if you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine—nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Who’s ashamed?! _You_ should be ashamed!” Flowey shot back. “You’re still just trash! You’re still not really anything _special_!”

Sans doesn’t respond right away, so Flowey goes on, his entire form beginning to tremble.

“I mean—I _mean_!! You can act like you’re just protecting him, but I can easily figure out what it’s really about.” With a huff, like he finally regained the upper hand to whatever this was, Flowey was all too eager to declare, “It’s just about control, isn’t it? You’re just a control freak deep down. A _real_ megalomaniac.”

And then. And _then_.

Sans just shakes his head with a chuckle. And he still gives Flowey that stupid, _stupid_ pitiful smile.

“Now you’re _really_ sounding like you’re projecting, kiddo.”

“Shut up.” Flowey whispered and then hissed. “Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP—!!”

This time, he didn’t hold back. This time, Sans didn’t even bother to dodge the roots and vines. Because Chara could reset any moment now—Chara could stop this. It really was despicable—just another excuse for this rubbish bag of bones to not do anything. To be lazy. Worthless, so _worthless_ —

This wouldn’t even be satisfying after all the stupidly _ridiculous_ trouble this garbage skeleton put him through on his runs. If Flowey could feel, he was sure he’d burn to the roots with _hate_.

He hated, hated, **_hated_** —

Sans sighs. Even as those vines and roots squeeze hard enough to crack his bones—even though the only reason Flowey was taking it stupidly slow and not just crumbling this worthless idiot into just as worthless dust as soon as he could was just so that he could get something. Something other than that— _that_...

“I really, really feel sorry for you, kid,” Sans says. And he really sounds like he means it, as he stares somberly down at the cracking expression of aggravation and misery on said kid’s face. Then, almost courteously, he shuts his eyes.

Whether he dies soon after that is unclear.

Either way, inevitably and all the same, Sans opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling of his room. There’s a spring digging into his spine and he hardly notices because he still feels like he’s being crushed by vines and hopelessness that’s a mixture of his own and someone else’s.

So for the moment, all he does is deeply inhale, filling the lungs he doesn’t have, and breathes.


	6. Someone who Loves you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus has another not so great day. And on a day where Sans...actually...does things?? Kind of???
> 
> Wow. Everything's so messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention that Chapters 2-5 were kind of like an arc and that arc is now over as of this chapter. We're not going into an arc that's nearly as long as the previous one so you can think of it more as a mini-arc. Not sure how long it'll actually be, but keep in mind it'll definitely structured a bit differently. That comes into play late in this chapter and more into the next. Just a heads-up.
> 
> This chapter's not nearly as long as the last. Only 9.3K. That's...not...that...long...comparatively speaking.
> 
> By the way, the chapter title is a reference. To me. If you are reading my story, I love you. You get more love with comments and kudos. Loooove youuuuu.
> 
> It may not do much but I at least hope the feeling it gives you is warm. =w=

As they drifted through the caverns, it was as though the very darkness licked at their feet. Like wading through water, perhaps, only to be abruptly engulfed at some point. They stumbled over their feet but kept on walking and walking and—they really wondered, if they screamed, would someone come this time?

The nightmare suggested otherwise. For all their troubles, their would-be screams ended up muffled as their mouth was covered when they tried, when they really, really tried to scream at the top of their lungs. They weren’t even able to freely move or cry when they woke. They were trembling, like they were still pinned down by something unseen, and any sounds they made were pitiful half-whines. If someone came, they’d surely get hit.

...Except. _No_. No, they _wouldn’t_.

Somehow they remembered. They wouldn’t be hurt here—not by _these_ people.

It’s an unsettling realization as much as it’s a heartening one. The only reason they’re even up and about right now instead of crying for those people is because they woke up alone in the first place. But maybe this was a stupid idea, because forcing their feet to track through the licking darkness of these caverns might just end up with them getting swallowed up after all.

Wouldn’t that be terrifying—and kind of funny, too?

Chara walks through one of the framed entryways into an area bathed in light. They noted the golden flowers first, and then Asriel at the center of the garden where the light from above shone brightest. In intrigue, they snuffled, but Asriel was too deep in thought to perk up as he normally would.

Asriel seemed focused and tense, with his shoulders hunched over something and his furry head bowed. Chara, thinking of him straining himself and maybe even getting a headache later from so much thinking, couldn’t help but smile and drift towards him.

Asriel groaned at some point, followed by a brief whine, and then, “...try again...”

_Again, again, again—_

Chara’s hand reached out and—

“Oof!” He squeaked with surprise as arms wrapped around him from behind, a chin settling on his shoulder as he heard that telltale giggle and felt the familiar nuzzle into his floppy ear. “C-Chara, you’re supposed to be sleeping!”

“I woke up alone and got _scaaaaared_. And then, I couldn’t help but wonder,” Chara sniffled theatrically. It sounded like they really were close to tears. “Did my crybaby brother _seriously_ run off somewhere without me?”

“I wouldn’t do that!” Asriel protested, and there was a tinge of franticness to his tone. Likely he did feel Chara’s heart pounding against his back. “If I did, it’d only ever be to get Mum and Dad! I’d never, ever leave you alone otherwise!”

Chara hums, tightening their grip, and then—

Asriel yelps as he’s suddenly yanked back and Chara lands flat on their back in the flowerbed, him still trapped in their embrace. While he froze up, they started laughing and then started to roll.

“Chara!!” Asriel cried out, and then, unable to stop himself from giggling as Chara tickled him mercilessly, “Cha _ra_ —haha! Hahaha!! _No_! I surrender, I surrender!!”

Chortling, Chara bumped their foreheads together fondly and finally pulled back. “So,” they start, and their gaze began to wander downwards. “What, exactly, were you do—?”

They pause. Clenched tightly in their brother’s hand was a crumbled, tangled mess of golden flowers. Asriel, noticing, quickly hid it behind his back with a flustered laugh.

“I... I was trying to make a crown like you showed me but... It was a lot more difficult than I expected...”

“Well.” Chara says with an innocent blink. “Asriel has big, clumsy mitts. So it’s not a surprise.”

“T-They’re not clumsy!” Asriel squawked indignantly. “It’s just the size! That’s it!! Your fingers are just really thin so it’s easier for you!”

Chara flexed said fingers with a snort. “Is _that_ all it is?”

“W-Well...” Their brother got flustered again. So cute. So painfully cute, even with that averted gaze. “I imagine that _does_ make a difference.”

“Yeah.” Chara immediately agrees. “No _kidding_.”

“Urgh!” Asriel loudly groaned, throwing his head back. “You’re even worse than Mom sometimes!”

“What can I say, Asriel? I give it all I _goat_.” That just got Asriel groaning even harder like he’d been punched in the gut and Chara couldn’t stop theirself from laughing. “Hehehe! Aw come on, you’re smiling.”

“I wish I wasn’t!”

“No you dooon’t! Whoever wishes they weren’t smiling?” Chara laughs harder at the thought and then teases, smugly, “Would you rather be _crying_?”

That had their brother stammering. “I-I’m not a crybaby either, Chara!”

Chara kept on giggling, and Asriel got more and more flustered until he snorted, and couldn’t help but join in laughing despite his best efforts.

Despite everything, really. It’s so easy to get Asriel smiling for them—and wasn’t that a nice smile their brother had? He had such a nice laugh, too. Like perfect, undented bells. It was easy to get Asriel to cry, too, come to think of it. Regardless, Asriel was always cute. Happy, frustrated, teary, sleepy—

Full of awe, eyes going wide and sparkling even more in the filtered down light as Chara threaded the flower stems together with a hum. Showing their brother how it was done and then making him giggle as they crowned him with the flowers.

“My prince,” they murmur, bowing chivalrously like they’ve seen the Royal Guard do—like they’ve always imagined knights to do before their most beloved majesty. Asriel puffs his chest out to look as dignified and as important as he can, but it’s not too long before he starts shaking with the desire to laugh. One that Chara’s quick to drag out when they start tickling him again.

“Chara!” Asriel exclaimed, breathless and flushed with delight as he pushed them off. “C-Cut that out already!!”

Chara simply snickers and then, says with the widest smile, “Now let’s see you make me a crown, your _highness_.”

“Gladly!”

Even as he says that, Chara still watches him struggle to entwine the flowers. They crumble in his paws with how he fails to be precise and careful, always bending the stems and visibly wavering as the petals wilt and flutter into his lap. Chara tucks another flower into his crown as Asriel begins to look exasperated, making him perk up. And he quickly smiles and laughs brightly again, when he had just started to look close to frustrated tears before.

Chara thought then, about how nice it would be to lock that smile away. Wouldn’t it be nice to lock it away in a place where it’d remain unfaltering and untouchable? But any place where Chara could have considered it locking away was much too dark. Much too cold.

_...what a shame._ They think, as they shut their eyes.

* * *

Chara wakes in a bed of golden flowers. Despite the flowers’ perfume, the slight warmth of the sunlight filtering down, and the softness all around, they still smell the burning air and they still feel Sans’s cold grip around their wrist and around their soul. They’re already trembling with the widest smile on their lips, and they only barely manage to muffle that choking burst of laughter when they cover their mouth with their hands.

They’re still giggly as they push theirself up, up until they breathe in deep. Even the usual memories tinged with nostalgia seem dull in comparison to their latest death. It’s been so long since they felt so _alive_! In that moment where the blasters went off and they were burned to a crisp, it was as though they also _thrived_. There was just something about the _way_ Sans killed them—something about the way Sans _killed_ —!

It’s hard not to fantasize about the possibilities; Chara could come up with so many so quickly. But patience. More time would unfortunately have to be needed if they were to bring any of those fantasies to life. Good things come to those who waited.

What an irritating quote. But they stuck by it all the same. If nothing else, they could still be excited for it. They were already humming as they made their way through that first cavern, and only briefly glanced at the headpiece above that first entryway—at the adorning Delta Rune engraved in that stone that looked so faded with time.

Their smile did fade, in spite of everything, when they came across Flowey. Stem bent, turned away, but visibly faltering Flowey. Chara blinks, and then—

“Asriel?”

Flowey visibly stiffened, and quickly turned to them, with Asriel’s face. “Chara...”

Chara stared, and he withered even more under their intense gaze, even as he struggled to put on one of Asriel’s usual adorable smiles.

“Y-You sure took your time, huh? I could have fought that smiley trash bag myself with how long you took.”

“Did Sans say something to you after I died?” they asked. Flowey flinched. Chara smiled and couldn’t help but chuckle, sighing, “Oh no. Did he make you _cry_? How very uncool of him!”

“It was nothing like that!” Flowey denied, shaking his head furiously. Thankfully, he seemed to snap back to his usual face in his immediate annoyance. “It was-! You know how that creep is! Just how _infuriating_ he can be sometimes!”

_Oh, don’t I ever._ Chara just nods, even as their eyes roll. “I’m surprised Sans was even in a chatty mood considering the situation before I died. I thought he’d be more concerned about that dopey brother of his...” They immediately perked up, realizing, with bright, bright eyes and the brightest of smiles, “Oh, _Asriel_! You have to tell me how that went! Did they get into an argument? Did Sans visibly fall apart?! How disappointed was his _stupid_ brother?”

“Well... It... It _was_ entertaining...” Flowey admitted that, at least. And then he does laugh. “Oh, I wish. Papyrus was really upset, but he gives everyone so much leeway, especially his garbage brother. He’s really stupid, isn’t he? Even when watching someone kill with nothing but ruthlessness, he’s still going to swear he believes that they... Urgh.” He groaned. “Gosh. He’s _really_ stupid.”

“He really is rather dull, isn’t he? Especially compared to Sans,” Chara hummed, rubbing at the nape of their neck. “Ah, Sans. Sans loves his brother very dearly, doesn’t he?” With another sigh, a much more wistful sound, their head tilted. “Sans may not care about a lot of things—he certainly doesn’t put his effort into most—but he cares deeply about his brother, doesn’t he?”

Flowey huffed. But Chara began to chuckle.

“Hey, hey, Asriel, what do you think would happen—if I tore that wholehearted love into shreds? If I _ruined_ that?” Eyes going wide, they stared above curiously at the ceiling engulfed in darkness. “Do you think that—if I stripped that from Sans...that... That _nothing_ would be left?”

“Probably.” Flowey answered bluntly. “I’ve killed Papyrus enough times to know he’s pretty much a bunch of _nothing_ when his brother’s gone. Unless, you mean something else...”

“Mmhm. You misunderstand me, Asriel,” they say. They shake their head, but keep on staring upward. “I could _always_ kill Papyrus. Whenever and wherever the second I leave these Ruins. That’s hardly a curiosity for me. No, there’s no interest in a death that simple when it’s easily resettable, even with memories of knowing it happened, over and over. I’m talking about the death of someone in someone else.”

“Someone else?” Flowey repeated. He sounded confused. That was rather annoying—wasn’t it obvious?

“...Asriel. You understand the kind of person I am now, right?”

“Huh...? Oh, of course!!” He was quick to agree. “I do! We’re the same after all!”

“Right!” Chara intones cheerfully, smiling down at him. “And you know that—regardless of who it is—I’ll kill anyone that stands in my way, right?”

“Ri...Right...” He faltered a bit. But at least he’s not as terrified as he would be later on. Chara can’t help but grin wider.

“See, the path I want to take is more than a physical one. It’s emotional—almost spiritual. What I want is so much more than just everyone’s deaths, even if it’s just one particular person now.” Raising their chin, with a giggle, they say, as clear as they can, “I want Sans. Maybe as a tool, maybe as a toy—it doesn’t really _matter_. All the same, I’ll kill anyone that stands in my way of that. But just killing them in a way that can easily be undone just isn’t enough, no, no.” They shook their head again, firmer and sterner. “That death has to be **_deeper_** than that. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

Flowey, wide-eyed, blinked up at them. But the pieces began to click into place, and a tense edge pulled at his smile as he forced out a laugh.

“H-Ha... Haha... C-Chara... Is _this_ why you made it so that he could...?”

“Did you know I’ve already killed you before, Asriel?” Chara asks him, sweetly, almost curiously. “Many times? Many, _many_ times? So many times that—were I to tear you apart with my bare hands right now—I wouldn’t even **_hesitate_**?”

Flowey froze. And clean, dust-free fingers wrapped around his stem. Chara’s smile was nothing short of angelic and bright, even as everything else looked so, so dark. Their other hand stroked his petals. His former sibling giggled.

And then, they pulls away, putting their hands up with a laugh.

“Oh, wow! You really looked terrified for a minute there! Did you really think I’d do it? Here? Now?” They tsk at him, feigning disappointment. “That’d be impractical. Especially when you can help me. Who else am I supposed to turn to other than you, Asriel?”

Flowey flinched, but then... “Ha... Hahaha... I-I mean... It’s not like I don’t understand. We’re... We’re the _same_ after all. Although—do you really think Sans is on our level? He’s, well...” Chuckling, albeit tensely, he said, “He’s _really_ pitiful, Chara. He might just end up falling down long before ever coming close to reaching us. It’s a surprise he hasn’t yet, honestly. I really doubt it’d take much.”

Chara hummed thoughtfully, cupping their chin as they did. “You know that’s a good point. Ah, well, we’ll just see what happens. Sans has already proven he’s got some entertainment value left in him. What’s the harm in squeezing out a little more and... If nothing else.” They giggled, a smirk twisting at their grin. “I think I can pull him up _juuuust_ as easily as I could drag him down.”

“R-Really? Just as easily?” Flowey asked with a stammer. He immediately shrank back when Chara, picking up on that, shot him a look.

“...Asriel.” They say, and then smiled genially at him. “What happened after Sans killed me? You went and talked to him _behind my back_ again, right? What did he _say_?”

“We just talked!” He quickly exclaimed, surprisingly frantic. “I-I thought it’d be funny! I mean—the way he acted! And how he talked to Papyrus...! There’s nothing more to it! _Really_!”

“What did he say to you?” They asked. Still so sweet. Flowey wilted even more.

“H-Haha... Hah... Oh, nothing important... You know that guy... Dumb jokes... A lot of nonsense... There’s no point in remembering what he says even without the ability to reset...” Flowey swallowed. Flowers didn’t need to swallow. Chara’s gaze narrowed, sharpened. Flowey insists, “He’s just full of hot air. There’s no point in worrying about what he says. It’s all nonsense! Y-You understand, right?”

“Well...” They sigh, almost mournful. Like they were pouting. “I like his jokes.”

“Of course you do.” Flowey sighs too, but more out of a strange relief. “You always laughed so hard at Mom’s dumb jokes. T-That said, that trash bag of bones recycles a _lot_ of the same jokes so anyone would get sick and annoyed after a while.”

Chara chuckled. “I can see how that would infuriate you. Oh, Asriel, you poor thing.”

Flowey looked visibly irritated. But still relieved. “I wouldn’t go _that_ far.”

“All bloom and gloom,” Chara sniffled, feigning sadness as they pressed their wrist to their forehead. “My poor, poor brother! It just _breaks my heart_!”

Flowey’s petals got ruffled. “Are you done? Don’t you have better things to do, Chara?”

“Why?” They asked in almost genuine surprise. “I’m _killing_ it right here.”

“...Please just get going.”

Chara burst out laughing, long and hard and wiping tears from their eyes as they did. “Hehe, don’t tell me what to do. You’re not the one in control anymore.”

Flowey stiffened again, adorably and amusingly.

“In all seriousness, you’ll remember what I said right? About Sans?” they ask him. He quickly and immediately nods. With a low laugh, Chara says, “It might be a while before I actually go and start killing everyone again depending on what happens... More so if I actually kill _everyone_. So I want you to please be patient for a little while. You can do that for me, can’t you, Asriel?”

“Of course!” So immediate. So eager. “Whatever happens—I’m sure it’ll be great! And here I thought this world was getting boring!”

“That’s why it’s important to try new things, even if you have your misgivings!” Chara exclaims cheerfully. “You’d never doubt me, right, Asriel?”

“No, no, never!” And then, with a flinch that so clearly looked like a remembrance, he quickly amended, “Never again!”

“Good boy.” Chara nods and then. “I’ll be seeing you.”

* * *

Flowey doesn’t check on them after they clear the ruins and that’s just fine. They’re eager to move on ahead regardless—and especially eager to see Sans again. Maybe this time he’ll actually be visibly waiting for them the second they step out. Not that they didn’t find his initial sneaking around _cute_ —

The door creaks as they push it open, and it shuts firmly behind them. They look around, smiling and expectant, but that smile soon fades. Not because of the lack of visible presence—they did expect that after all—but because for once, they couldn’t feel Sans’s presence at _all_. It was as though they...really _were_ alone out here?

_Seriously?_

“Ah... Haha... Huh?” Chara looks around again, a bit more furiously and irritably. The only sign of another was that gleam of the camera in the bushes. They blinked at it, wide-eyed and unassuming, and then glared with enough poison to make buttercups wilt.

They moved forward, calling out, “Sans? _Sans_!”

They couldn’t even hear footsteps. They step over that branch, too, and they even wait a bit but they never hear it crunch. They didn’t hear anything save for their footsteps, their intakes of breath, and their voice continuing to call out, “ _Sans_ —Sans!”

They passed the too-wide bars, unimpeded. Sans’s sentry station was untended and of course, uninhabited. The sight still unbelievably annoyed them. They made a beeline for it just to make sure. He could have just been sleeping or hiding in—

_...what’s with the condiments...?_

Chara blinked at the row of bottles and jars as they leaned over the station. The splintery edge of the wood dug into their palms as they lowered theirself a bit more to get a clearer look. Even upside down, they could tell everything was haphazardly arranged—like Sans just tossed some of the bottles in thoughtlessly, not even bothering to make sure nothing got knocked over. It occurred to them that they...never bothered to check his sentry station before? They always just hurried on past, sometimes with the sentry in question.

Chara hummed, frowned, and then pulled away to push back against the ground onto their feet. Tapping their fingers against the wooden surface, they looked back in the direction of the door and groaned.

“Where even the hell are you—”

“— _SANS_!”

Instantly, they perked up, eyes going wide. That calling continued.

“Sans, are you at your station?!” Slowly, Chara turned, lips parting and their nails digging into the wood of the station as that voice went on. They spot the owner of that voice, looking exasperated but also so, so worried. “Sans, I _swear_ —HEY!”

And they’re noticed just like that.

“Hey!!” Papyrus was already running towards them, waving his arm. “Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!! YOU THERE!!”

Chara barely had to blink a few times before Papyrus was in front of them, not even missing a beat before demanding, “Have you seen my brother around here? This is his station! You really shouldn’t be so close to...it...” He does slow down, just for a minute to really look at them. Chara smiles, and it feels cold on their face. Papyrus’s features twisted with troubled confusion. “Have we met before, little one? You look strangely...familiar...” Those features twisted a bit more, like he was remembering something unpleasant. Chara smiled a bit wider at him and suddenly he was shaking his head, groaning. “No, no, that’s not important right now! I need to find Sans! I haven’t seen him all morning!”

Chara’s smile dropped. “You haven’t?”

“Not even for breakfast! Not even in his room!” Papyrus exclaimed miserably, not even focused on anything else. It took him a while to even notice—and he turned back to them curiously. “Do you know him, then? Are you looking for him as well?”

“You could say that...” Chara replied, lowly. Then, raising their chin, they said, matter-of-factly, “I _am_ looking for him. It’s very important.”

“That’s-! Really strange... What business could a child have with my brother?” He was wondering and Chara wondered too. _A child._ They hadn’t heard Papyrus himself make note of that before—at least they never remembered him doing that. Of course they knew Papyrus likely wouldn’t figure out they were a human without Sans telling him—even then, he’d sometimes take a while. But this time, annoyingly, he picked up on their being a child almost immediately.

It must be the striped sweater. Funny how that gets noticed now.

“It’s important,” they reiterate. “But you haven’t seen him around at all yet, huh? _That’s_ really strange. You two aren’t having a disagreement, are you?”

“No, no! At least I don’t think so?” Papyrus seemed to think it over, and that troubled look cast a shadow over his expression again. Like something was niggling at him—something really, truly _wrong_. “Sans...does sometimes just leave without saying anything... But not...not this early in the morning. That’s just not like him at all. I hope he didn’t have a really bad night...”

They blink, blankly repeating, “A bad night?”

He’s quick to waving his hands furiously, shaking his head at them with a bright laugh that sounded so, so forced.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, little one! Well, it _is_ worrying, but Sans doesn’t like it when people worry about him! I only worry as his very cool, very reliable physically bigger brother! It’s my duty to!” Papyrus seemed almost proud of that, though his grin soon became a grimace as he added, with a grumble and a huff, “Although it’d be nice if he threw me a bone every now and then and _just tell me_... Urgh, and already his missing presence is having a negative effect on me...! I need to find him soon before I start boondoggling, too. How unreliable and VERY uncool!”

Chara did muffle a laugh with their hand at the pun, though they soon perked up. With a widening smile, they noted, “Your _duty_ , huh? How ** _good_** for Sans.”

Papyrus did nod at that, and then, as though struck with an idea, he turned back to them. “Since we’re both looking for Sans, we should go together! With two gazes on the lookout, we’ll be much more thorough! But we can split up and cover twice as many ground too...” He turned thoughtful, rubbing at his chin and muttering, “Which to do, which to do... Do you have any preference, little one?”

“Together is fine.” Chara said with a shrug. “I prefer it to alone, honestly.”

“Oh ho! Fortunately for you, the GREAT Papyrus is also GREAT company!!” Though exclaimed confidently and matter-of-factly at first, Papyrus soon sighed with worry. “Although the circumstances are less than ideal... No matter!” Just like that, he sprang right back up. “Surely we’ll find Sans soon! I haven’t a doubt!”

“Mmhm.” Chara nodded, and then, with a giggle, “Who knows? Sans might even come to us.”

“I wouldn’t put so much faith in that.” Papyrus laughed a bit ruefully, waving his hand. “Sans’s proactivity...needs work, putting it frankly. But maybe! He might! Sometimes Sans surprises me!”

“You really think so?” They ask coyly, folding their arms behind their back and leaning forward with a lop-sided smile. They feel their fingers twitch towards their hidden toy knife. There’s a twitch at their smile. “I think you should have more faith. It’d make your brother feel _so_ much better. He might even be more prone to telling you things.”

“You think so?” Papyrus parroted, blinking at them with widened sockets. Then, faltering, “Is _that_ really all it is? Shouldn’t Sans _know_ that I...?”

“Shouldn’t we get going?” Chara asked, a bit sharper. “ _Papyrus_?”

“Oh, yes!” He does seem to respond eagerly, at least. Almost like a dog that’s heard orders from its owner—Chara’s smile twitched at remembering something funny. Although, their smile tightens when, oh so innocently, Papyrus inquires. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Ah, it’s...”

...Huh. They wondered if it would really be alright to say their name. Papyrus likely wouldn’t ask too many questions, and chances are, he might not even recognize the name the way Sans had—but on the off chance that their name did ring a bell...

Well. They really weren’t too keen on having him say their name anyway. Something about the idea just greatly annoyed them. Hard to explain. What else could they say? What else, what else—

Oh, right. There’s _that_ name.

“Frisk. It’s Frisk.” There was an interesting little stir in their— ** _their_** soul. Mirthfully, Chara rubbed at their chest as though that’d settle it. “I am Frisk.”

“Frisk? Frisk! It’s nice to meet you, Frisk!” Papyrus sticks out a large gloved hand for them to firmly, jerkily shake as their grin widened. Papyrus was as bright as ever, undeterred, unknowing most likely as he pulled back and pointed ahead dramatically. “And so shall The GREAT Papyrus be off!! Towards Sans!! Wherever he may be!!”

“Yes, yes,” Chara agreed cheerily, skipping after him as he stomped on ahead.

“No need to worry, Frisk!” He calls back to them, making them perk up. “We’ll find him to be sure! After all, as the very responsible very COOL physically bigger brother, it’s my duty to keep a sharp lookout for my lazier, physically littler brother! We’ll find him! I’m sure of it!”

It’s so obvious he’s trying to assure himself far more than he’s trying to assure them. They wouldn’t expect any different. They still nodded, of course, and smiled up bigly at him to give him that easy, easy boost of confidence. God, it was so _easy_ —he smiled back so broadly **_so_** easily—it wasn’t like Sans’s wide grin at _all_.

How unremarkable.

* * *

Sticking to Papyrus did have its conveniences, of course. Monsters were less suspect, more trusting especially when Papyrus mentioned they were a ‘friend’ of Sans. Wasn’t everyone Sans’s friend? Doesn’t everyone like Sans? Nothing suspicious here at all, even if said friend seemed a little on the odd side. Sans made friends with all _sorts_ of colorful creatures.

It was hilarious. Even more so with Papyrus’s building dismay at the shake of head after head of monster upon monster who hadn’t seen Sans. But, _hey_ , if you ever find your brother—do ask him if he’s still up for grub or chatter later at Grillbz—guy really knows how to _light up_ a place.

Chara hummed as Papyrus grimaced and just thanked that monster before moving on.

“This... This is still fine!” he exclaimed, both to them and to himself. “I-I mean, Sans doesn’t really talk to other people about what he’s up to or where he’s going either... And he’s good at just appearing in places without being spotted... So it makes sense no one else would know...”

“Is that so?” Chara asked dully, looking up at the ceiling as they trailed after him. “Fascinating. But it hardly helps our endeavor.”

“No,” Papyrus sighs. “It really doesn’t.” He perked right back up. “But we mustn’t lose our resolve even in disheartening circumstances, Frisk! If all else fails—I can talk to Undyne during our meeting and she’ll join our search with all the ferocity of the entire Royal Guard!! Then there’s no WAY we wouldn’t find my brother soon enough after that!!”

Chara hummed, calm and unassuming, but smile also curling at its edges. “If you say so.”

* * *

The two of them searched for a while and still no signs of Sans. Papyrus still told them—told himself—to stay resolute— **_stay determined!!_ ** —but they could still tell his anxiety was building.

They weren’t even in an area Chara usually passed through. Still, Chara doubted they’d remember it later. Papyrus was still looking around diligently, keenly.

Chara already knew Sans wasn’t going to be around here—that this was all going to be nothing more than a waste of time.

“By the way!!”

And then Papyrus spoke up, supposedly to lessen the heaviness of the mood.

“What did you need my brother for anyway, Frisk?” The inquiry sounded innocently enough, along with the glance he tossed them over his shoulder. They only blinked at him in response.

Neither of them didn’t even miss a step.

“I need to speak with him about something that happened some time ago,” They said. “Before Sans and I parted, something happened. But I didn’t get to witness how the events fully transpired because by then...”

“Something happened?” Papyrus parroted, and then he stopped in place. “Frisk?” He wasn’t looking at them, this time—instead he was looking ahead, though his gaze seemed unfocused. “When was this?”

“Why?” Chara asks, and then, stopping as well, they lightened their tone as they added, “Wouldn’t you know the answer to that question yourself? Or at least be able to hazard a guess?”

“I...guess??” He rubbed at the back of his skull, letting out a nervous laugh. “I-I mean, that shouldn’t be too hard to do and I’m, nyeheh, usually _good_ at guessing. But lately, I’ve felt like there’s something that I’m...missing? I-I wouldn’t worry about it, of course! Even the Greats miss a couple of things!”

Even with all that, he noticeably deflates. “But... This thing in particular...”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Chara says, sweetly and matter-of-factly. “It might just be something that can’t be helped.”

“Nyeh... You sound like Sans...” Papyrus laughs and then. “Frisk, how long have you known my brother?”

_Are you interrogating me? Are you suspicious now? Of **all** times?_

“A while.” Lightly. Cheerfully. “We’re quite close. We’ve really _spilled our guts_ to each other on multiple occasions. Metaphorically speaking, of course! I’m quite fond of Sans. He’s very entertaining.”

“Well, _that’s_ arguable.” Papyrus huffs, and then folds his arms. “That said, I’m...rather surprised about your response, Frisk. You and Sans are close? Then again—you _are_ strikingly familiar...”

He starts walking again. They follow.

Then Chara giggles. “You know, I get that a lot. But you know something, Papyrus? You’re a real friendly guy, I can tell. So open! So welcoming! So— _trusting_ , for better and for worse.” Their fingers itched. “Considering Sans, it’s not that much of a surprise, but... I’ve noticed. That familiarity you keep mentioning in regards to me... The expression you have suggests that you’re _unnerved_.”

“That’s... I don’t know what to say about that.” Papyrus looks around, a hint of frantic—still for Sans, most likely. Almost as though he was _expecting_ him. He walks just a little bit faster, but they match his pace without complaint. “I’ve just been having a lot of strange feelings today, Frisk. I wouldn’t worry about it! It’s probably not your fault...!”

“What if it is?” They ask simply, tilting their head almost innocently. “What would you do then?”

“That’s such a weird response!!” he exclaimed bluntly, though the unease was blatant. “How could it POSSIBLY be _your_ fault?! That makes no sense...”

“You know what also doesn’t make sense?” They pass tree after tree—each looking like the one passed before. “Time. Especially when you can control it. Because then, what truly is it? If I replayed this day a hundred times, how long has it really been?”

Now Papyrus had stopped again, as had they, and he was looking at them as though they were speaking gibberish. Well, where he was concerned, they supposed... “You know what _really_ doesn’t make sense? Someone returning to you when they’re supposed to be dead. Waking up _after_ death. Oh. That look on your face...”

Papyrus stared, and they licked their chapped lips, letting out the lightest of laughs.

“This really makes no sense to you, does it? Let me ask an actual question, then. Do you think that actions that can be undone matter?”

“I... I don’t understand, Frisk...”

“Do you think that—if you can undo it, then it doesn’t matter what you do? You could do anything—any ramifications be damned—and then, just as easily, you could undo what you did. To everyone else, it’s as though you haven’t done a thing.”

Papyrus still looked so confused. Chara sighed, and shrugged.

“You know, I don’t expect you to understand. Not really. It doesn’t matter. You’re easy to read. Easy to understand. I can guess easily how you’ll respond to where this conversation is going.”

“Where... _is_ it going?” Papyrus looks around, and it’s like for a moment, he can’t recognize all these indistinct trees and the thick blanket of snow he’s lived with for so long. He begins to step back. “We probably should get going. Especially if—if we’re _going_ to find where Sans is. _Right_? We can just talk later, Frisk, it’ll be fine...”

“Sure thing.” Chara says, but right when Papyrus actually looks relieved they quickly add, “But! One more question related to this topic! Okay?”

“O...kay...?”

He looks so suspicious.

“If you can undo it, does it still matter if you hurt someone?” Gleefully, their voice raises, like a loud whisper. “If you _kill_ them?”

Papyrus froze. And then, with a shaky laugh, he points out, “T-That’s two questions. And...! And...” And then, he clears his throat and answers properly. And he says that, “It _does_ matter. That’s—that’s wrong no matter how you look at it.” Sterner, he asked, brow furrowing. “Why would you even _want_ to if you can just avoid it? You shouldn’t ever think that hurting someone doesn’t matter. Even if they don’t remember. Because _you_ will.”

“...Oh.” Chara says, and then laughs. “Wow. You and Sans really _are_ brothers at **_heart_** , aren’t you? Sans said something very similar to me once. That’s funny. That’s really funny.”

“I fail to see the humor in this, Frisk.” Papyrus said, and his voice tightens as he goes on. “The way you’re behaving—is quite serious, actually. Almost like you’re on a very dangerous path right now.”

Places change. People stay the same.

Is _that_ how that line went?

“But... That said... Fear not, Frisk!” He was so _loud_. “I, the Great Papyrus, can also provide GREAT guidance...! And I see great potential in you, weirdness and mild creepiness aside!”

Their soul was stirring again. Chara crushed it under their heel in irritation.

“I’m not the one you should worry about.” They say, as clearly and as cuttingly as they can. “Doing so is not only pointless—it’s worthless.”

Papyrus shook his head, and he let that worry show _so_ easily. “Oh, Frisk, don’t say that!”

Chara grinded their heel against their stirring, more and more annoyed. Their fingers itched so badly—they almost wanted to peel off their skin in retort.

“Worrying about someone is never worthless!!” he insists. “After all, anyone can be great if they just...!”

“Just.” They cut in. “Shut _up_.”

“...Frisk...?”

Chara stomped down on that stirring to the point that it stilled but they didn’t _stop_ stomping until it was dust, dust, **_dust_** -!

“Anyone can be great.” They mimic, high-pitched and near hysterical as they barely kept back a chortle. “Well, you know what? That goes both ways.” They don’t fight that itch this time, their fingers trail along the handle of that stupid, stupid toy from where it was stashed away. “Anyone can be great—and anyone can be absolutely _awful_.”

Their fingers begin to wrap around the handle.

“They can hurt you just as much as they help you and sometimes they help so much it hurts and it hurts so much it helps. Ha. _Haha_.”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“Heh. Hehe. There’s no point in separating the two really. It’s just how it is.”

“Frisk...” Papyrus says. So _softly_. They’re glad it’s **_that_** name.

Nothing but dust now.

Chara’s smile twitched, edges contracting painfully. Tittering, they tightly close their grip around that handle.

“Just how it is,” they repeat, lighter, happier. “I already know how this is going to go. But you’re slow on the uptake, aren’t you? So, hey, I’ll play nice with you for just a little longer.”

“How it’s going to go?” Papyrus repeated—like a real broken record. Something like that might as well be put down. Scavenged for parts, if possible. Chara wondered. He went on, voice rising with apprehension and something else. “Weren’t we supposed to be looking for _Sans_? This—This _weird_ discussion isn’t really getting us anywhere. Unless, you’re, asking for help...? Is that it?”

Chara snorted. “You really have no idea what’s going on here, do you? How far are we from other monsters, do you think?”

“Uh...” Papyrus looked around. Still trees. Still snow. Just the cold wind and frost biting on Chara’s skin and smile. Then, slowly, realization flickers across his gaze and he stiffens before forcing himself to relax. “Frisk, you... You seem really upset.” Hesitantly, he added. “And it’s not just about Sans, is it? But Sans... Sans has something to do with it, at least.”

“Gosh.” Chara brandished their weapon with a chuckle. “You’re _really_ stupid, aren’t you?”

“Maybe that was an understatement.” Papyrus goes on, acting like he just didn’t even hear the insult. But Chara saw how he flinched. They also saw how he steadied himself and—“I admit, a lot of the things you say don’t make a lot of sense... And in fact, they’re mostly just _worrying_ to hear especially coming from a child, BUT!! I don’t doubt I can still help you! With time, I might even be able to fully understand if you let me! Regardless, I’ll always believe that—”

“Will you still say that to someone who’s going to kill your brother?” Chara cuts in. And for once, Papyrus stops, blinking furiously at them like he doesn’t understand—like he _couldn’t_ understand that—“After I kill you, I intend to kill him, too. Will you still believe then, even as your and your brother’s dust end up scattered with the wind?”

“T-That... That’s not funny... Now’s not the time for such unpleasant jokes, Frisk...” Papyrus sputters. “You really shouldn’t joke like that ever...!”

“What makes you think I’m joking?” they ask and it’s a serious question.

Papyrus is quiet for a while. They smile so widely at him.

And then he answers, grimly.

“Sometimes people say things they don’t mean because they’re upset. Because, maybe, if they make other people upset, it hurts a little less.” He shakes his head and then, “But I assure you, such methods really don’t help at all! So, let’s not!” Papyrus extends his arms towards them. “As your friend, Frisk, I can help you in much, much better ways! I swear it!”

Chara just stares, smile in place but with cold, cold auburn eyes. And then Papyrus goes on.

“If we go back to looking for Sans... And find him together... I’m sure he’ll help you too, best he can.” He insists, as determinedly as he can, “Even though he can be so lazy in a lot of other things, he’ll still help! He... My brother... Sans is a good person! I promise!! So...!”

“Sans.” They say. “Sans isn’t going to save you from me this time, is he?”

Papyrus wavers in confusion. “This...time...?”

A real broken record. Whatever.

“Eh,” Chara shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. And, you know something, Papyrus?”

Papyrus cocked his head, painfully confused—but also blatantly bracing himself.

“At some point,” They tell him matter-of-factly, “You in particular aren’t going to matter to him at _all_.”

Their smile widens at the same time his eye sockets do, and they ready that weapon to kill.

“Well, with that.”

They don’t even wait a heartbeat.

“It was so very nice talking with you, Papyrus. I’ll be seeing you later.”

Papyrus died saying the name of someone who Chara already trampled to indistinguishable bits. Someone who _allowed_ that to **_happen_** to them.

Chara found that beyond hysterical.

* * *

It’s broken.

He’s really not sure what he expected other than broken. Other than _really_ broken.

It’s really broken.

But he’s already learned that hope can be as illogical as it can be stubborn, even with a guy like him. Even if this is about the extent of that hope, as impractical as he knows it is.

He’s setting himself up for failure and he knows it. He’s sure of it.

...But...

He doesn’t have any other options other than to just lie back as everyone around him is terrorized and killed over and over again. And maybe, just maybe, he’d rather that _not_ be the rest of his life.

Sans tugged a bit more at the curtain, uncovering more of the machine. The more he sees, the more hopeless it looks. To be fair, he might be able to undo some of the damage considering...

Some of it was his own fault. So, in the very least, he...

_...He?_

He...might as well get to work.

With a sigh, Sans does just that, biting and pulling off his mittens with his teeth for easier access. It’s uncomfortable without them, but he can’t afford to have them get in the way. Besides, it’ll be easier once he actually starts working. He always works with his bare hands.

* * *

He’s lost track of time and of his thoughts. For the most part, he works almost instinctively, near thoughtlessly. Every now and then he has to pause, and more often than not he hits a roadblock that he just puts off to check on or fiddle with something else.

There’s a nostalgia to this working—the kind with a bitter aftertaste like remembering something unpleasant. He’s already thinking about all the things he’d rather do than this. Maybe that just makes him work slower. He doesn’t really care. Not really. It just has to get done.

At the very least he’s diligently marking all the changes and adjustments on the back of the blueprints. Just in case. Though he really shouldn’t worry, he supposes. This room, if nothing else, was ripple-proof.

He had that, at least. He might as well take advantage of it.

When it comes to that kid, he might as well.

There’s not much else he can do, after all, and said kid knows it. Idly, he wonders just how much that kid knows—how much they’ve _learned_ across the timelines. They certainly carried a few interestingly unpleasant tricks up their sleeve, what with the awareness they ‘blessed’ him with. They could be capable of _so much more_.

Add to the fact that Chara is supposed to be dead—has been unresponsively dead for years, as far as he can suspect... Not even accounting for everything involving the kid prince... Poor, tender-hearted _Asriel_ , who has been mourned for longer than Sans himself had even been around.

What a mess. What an absolute _mess_. He couldn’t make sense of it at all.

_~~He shouldn’t~~ _ ~~have _to._~~

_~~It’s not like any of this has~~ _ **~~anything~~ ** _~~to do with him.~~ _

_~~Under ‘normal’ circumstances, he shouldn’t even be **involved**.~~ _

**_But hey, it couldn’t be helped,_ r i g h t?**

Right.

He’s stuck and he just has to work through it. It may look hopeless, but compared to other options, it’s like...comparing pieces to dust. He can work with pieces, kind of, maybe—he can’t work with dust at all. Mostly hopeless to completely hopeless. At least there’s a chance, no matter how slight, with the former.

He might as well.

* * *

“Huh, I don’t have this part.” Sans muttered, peering at the paper closely just to make sure. And sure enough. “I’ll have to lend it from Alphys or...something, I guess.”

He wondered what effect that’d have in consecutive timelines. If from that point onward, she wouldn’t have that part anymore—or at least not as many of the parts as she used to—and she’d just have no idea why. Maybe she’d just assume she lost it. Maybe she’d assume she put it somewhere and just forgot. Hell, maybe she would just figure Sans had ‘borrowed’ it after all. And she just forgot.

She just forgot. Whoopsy-daisy, _gosh_ , Al, _you’re so scatter-brained sometimes_.

Sans hummed, tapping the edge of the pencil against his chin, and then made the note.

_Ask Alphys for this part._ At least he knew she wasn’t going to question it. She’s asked him for weird favors too—although he usually understood what said favors were about for the most part. Still.

How much time had gone by again?

Probably enough that the kid’s gotten through the Ruins. Through _Her_. They’re probably going to be upset that he wasn’t there to ‘greet’ them—or maybe they’ll be fine with it since that’s never happened before. It didn’t really matter.

Whether he was there or not, they’ll kill everyone in their path all the same. And then reset. And then do it over again. And again. And he’ll actually remember each and every time from here on out. So there’s no room for doubt that this is just how it’s going to be.

So it didn’t matter. It’s ugly and unpleasant but also inevitable. He might as well just use this time to try and fix the machine. It’s the only hope he has right now.

It’s not looking too good.

But, eh. He works and works all the same. Regardless, he’d much rather be spending time in here by himself than out there with them. It’s fine. This is fine.

...Fine, fine, fine.

* * *

...Ah, right, Papyrus is probably wondering where he is. He never even bothered to leave a note, did he? Papyrus might be looking for him—and he probably has been for the...while...he’s been in here. Welp.

“Aw jeez,” Sans mutters, rubbing the back of his skull to the nape of his neck, over the jutted out bones. He’s really not used to not wearing his mittens—it’s really, _really_ weird how bare phalanges feel against other bones. And against just about _everything_ that wasn’t paper, pencil, and machinery. “I should probably go find him.”

Delicately folding up his notes and the blueprints to shove back into the drawer, he stands, all while popping joints as he did. He does take a step back, carefully taking in what handiwork he managed, what ‘progress’ he did in fact make. It looked moderately better, he supposed, if nothing else.

He still felt cold. Mostly empty. But it was still something.

_...Papyrus...have to find Papyrus..._

He might have still been operating on autopilot, honestly. It almost felt like his body wasn’t really his, like it was just moving a certain way like it had to—was programmed to—rather than out of personal drive or desire. That was fine, too. At least he was moving at all.

Papyrus would be fine with that much. And that’s all Sans could ever ask for.

* * *

“Oh, Sans! Your brother was looking for you!”

“...Ah.” Sure enough. He smiled wryly all the same, played it off like he was mildly sheepish with his hand rubbing at his neck—it felt so much more natural with the gloves back on—but for the most part, still calm. Still carefree and casual. “Jeez, he’s going to be really annoyed. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Oh speaking of which, some weird kid was with him,” they mentioned, thoughtful and pondering. And Sans froze up. “He said they were _also_ looking for you? You’re either especially popular today or...”

They shot him a disapproving stare, for the kid’s sake, most likely. Sans couldn’t even immediately laugh it off. His silence must have rubbed the other monster as especially odd, especially worrying.

“Hey, uh, are you alright, Sans?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he found himself asking. Was it? It didn’t really sound like him and he really wasn’t thinking at the same time his voice was working. Just like with the machine, huh? “It’s eh, fine. Weird, but fine. Aw jeez, though—some weird kid and Papyrus does not sound like the most promising of situations. They might get into some mischief and who’s going to have to clean that up?”

“Papyrus.” They answered bluntly, with a snort. Good. Good. They chuckled at the same time he snickered. “We both know _you_ wouldn’t. Your _poor_ kid brother.”

“Aw, give him some credit. He _is_ bigger than me. In that regard, _I’m_ the kid.”

Casual banter while his brother was with a mass murderer. _Classic Sans._

“Sometimes it really seems that way, doesn’t it?” They’re so cheerful. So upbeat. No clue at all. Finally, Sans felt something—the desire to scream. But he kept on smiling like nothing was wrong. “Well, all the same, you better go find them, huh? I got the feeling they were both worried about you. The least you can do is put their minds at ease.”

The least he could do was nothing at all.

He still laughed and nodded, wishing them off and thanking them politely all the same. Like it really _was_ the least he could do for allowing this person to completely and effectively waste his time.

It’s his fault too, but he still feels a stab of irritation.

At least that’ll stop if he gets the chance to throw himself on the kid’s toy knife. He feels like laughing. Why isn’t he laughing now?

“Aw jeez, Papyrus...” he finds himself muttering instead. He’s not sure why—and he’s not going to question it either. There’s a stirring in his soul, and he rubs at his chest idly as though that’d settle it. Then, without thinking, he clenched the fabric tight as though it really did hurt. “Papyrus... Please...”

He hurries—blinking through area to area—for what it’s worth.

* * *

His chest hurts. It’s not the same as the echoes of an undone death wound. He rubs at his sternum a little harder, over smooth bone through his shirt, but the ache persists.

“Papyrus...” He’s still muttering his brother’s name. Mechanically. Like it was a real lifeline. “Papyrus, Papyrus...”

He looks around—at nothing but repetitive trees and all that snow. He shortcuts to the next area. Nothing. Nothing. Oh hey, a snowpoff. And a snowball. Just a snowball.

So nothing.

“Papyrus?” He calls, not that much louder than he usually does. “Papyrus? Paps? Bro? Hey, bro?”

A beat of silence and then...

“Kid? Kiddo? _Chara_ —?”

Wind wrapped around him in response. He pulled up his hood even if he didn’t feel it—only heard it, like a resounding whistle—and kept looking about.

His soul pulsed. He perked up.

“...Papyrus...”

His heart skips a beat at the same time he blinks through. There’s a pull at his soul that he doesn’t ignore. He recognizes it. He knows he’s probably felt this way countless times, even without the lingering memory of each and every one.

He’s nowhere near the edge where Snowdin shifts into Waterfall. Instead the location’s completely different—so indistinct in appearance it feels more like a backdrop than a place of any remote significance. Trees border the pathway, but they all blend together into an unmemorable blur.

And yet, that feeling remains. That pull tugs at him. He follows like a puppet being pulled at its strings.

He doesn’t feel the cold, but he feels cold. Even as his soul pulses and pulses and...

At the sight of bright red, peeking from beneath the snow, fluttering just the slightest bit—it’s as though that pulse flutters and wilts like the final petal plucked from a flower as it falls to the ground.

And Sans just sighs.

“Oh Papyrus.” He takes a few long strides—as long as he can anyway—and immediately kneels down before the red. He gingerly brushes the snow aside, and tugs the scarf away with the upmost care. The fabric is cold and painfully familiar, with him recognizing each well-hidden stitch and knowing where most of those other stitches were without having to feel for them.

...And there’s a new tear, like someone racked a blade through it but only part of the way. It’s an ugly, ugly tear and even he’s surprised by just how much he _hates_ it—how much the sight makes him clench the scarf tighter in his hands as he grits his teeth.

Well, he can’t be too careless lest he risk ripping the poor thing in half. So he carefully pulls it completely out of the ground—and does the next best thing. He shoves it into his pocket. It completely stuffs the space to the point of overflowing and he can only kind of fit his hand in there now, but it works.

It...works.

Somehow, he manages to pull himself up steadily. He buries his hands in his pockets, one of which nestled in his brother’s scarf, and keeps his head bowed as he stares down.

If he looks hard enough, he’d be able to make out the dust from the snow. There doesn’t seem to be that much—it must have been scattered by the breeze. Sans still stares, sharpening said stare, even though the lights in his sockets have long since been out.

His smile tightens, and he shuts his eye sockets tight as he laughs, shoulders shaking and then...

“Alright, kid,” he says, light until his voice drops like a pin. “ ** _Alright_**.”

* * *

They’re practically skipping across the tiles of the final corridor. It’s blindingly bright, warmth filtering through the stained glass windows. He can see the dust particles fluttering in the air—little tiny dots that have him still as they seemingly dissipate even when the heaviness of the atmosphere doesn’t lessen at all. Still. He rocks on his heels.

The kid stops in front of him—where they usually stop. Half their form is illuminated by golden light—the other is in complete shadow save for the blood-red gleam of their eyes, and of the true knife that Sans sees is encased in a tightening grip around its handle.

“It’s been a while, huh?” he asks, simply with a bit of a shrug. He looks about almost like he was trying to once again familiarize himself with the area—as always, his wandering gaze stills on the Delta Rune on whichever window. He still talks like everything’s just fine. “You’ve uh, been real busy in the meantime though, haven’t ya? Not like I wouldn’t know. Have you been enjoying yourself at least? I’m sure you have.”

He laughs. And laughs. It grates on his non-existent throat. He grins at them. Like they’re a real pal.

Then he says, short and sweet, “Let’s cut straight to the point.”

This time they laugh. Giggle, really. Like they really are just so _happy_ to be here.

“Sans,” they say adoringly, practically singing his name with such a blissful, joyful smile on their face. “Sans, Sans, it’s so good to _see you_.”


	7. a good laugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's titled a good laugh because I'm pretty sure the damn thing was laughing at my expense as I struggled to write it.
> 
> On a semi-related note, Sans certainly has laughs at Chara's expense. Papyrus thinks that laughter's maybe a good way to start the day. He might be onto something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, it's been a while. I had a lot of stuff going on and I just graduated. Yaayyy me?
> 
> But I'm still going to be real busy with things. I'm gonna try to keep writing! I was doing so well with this dumb thing! I'd like to return to that rate someday even if it seems not too likely in the near future. ;~;
> 
> Especially since it's...getting really hard to write compared to previous parts. Whee.

At some point in time, Sans had sat with his back to the door and listened to the king shuffling around from inside the throne room. He tended to the flowers with a low, pleasant hum—it was some melody Sans might’ve heard from a music box. He could have fallen asleep then and there; he had before. He even slept through Asgore opening the door, with his majesty exhaling a soft ‘oh’ at the sight. But unlike how Papyrus would often scoop him up and carry him away, how Undyne would slap her hands down and yell, how  Grillby would nudge his shoulder with a warm hand, or how the lady behind the door gently but firmly rose her voice when she picked up on his snoring, the king never tried to stir him.

Was it consideration? Was it worry?

Sans really never brought it up even when he woke up afterwards, joints throbbing from being allowed to sleep so long in a likely uncomfortable position. Asgore would make a few gently teasing comments, always ask how his nap was, and Sans would just laugh it off. Maybe make a pun, even though he was so groggy sometimes he had to _really_ force it.

He’s not sure why he did. The best he could ever hope for in response was a weak chuckle. But it was something—and if nothing else, that something was enough. And somethings can pile up into something else—something more. He’s patient enough for that.

He just wishes Asgore wouldn’t let him sleep.

* * *

“You know I missed this,” they say, laughing as they dodge his attacks from the rows of bones. It’s been a while, so their dodging isn’t perfect. So they get hurt a few times, so they trip up and end up spitting up blood and bile. They still laugh and laugh, breathless like any kid would be from playing. “This hallway—just the two of us. And the oblivious, weak king behind those doors. But it might as well just be us—you’re the last fight after all. The last obstacle.”

They say that but they’re already smiling at him as though they’ve won. And that he knows it—which he does. He could figure that much out even without the memories. He has before. At the start of all this when he saw that kid’s face in the Judgement Hall for the ‘first time’.

At this point, it really is nothing more than a game. What even are the stakes other than a little bit of pride? For him, there might as well be no stakes at all.

_So why even try?_

...Eh.

The kid trips up, impaling their body on the bones below. The gross, litany of squelches contrast with the crystal clear shattering of their SOUL. Sans hums, and dispels the bones, letting the body thud against the floor like nothing more than a heap of skin, squishy insides, and bones that weren’t his own.

_This doesn’t make a difference._ He thinks. Reminding himself of this even though he knows it with every atom of his being. _They’ll just reset. This doesn’t change anything. Even if it did, things are never going to get better than this._

Like he doesn’t know that. Like he hasn’t already given up.

Still.

This is something, at least.

It’s not like he’d mind having this again—and _again_ — ** _and_** —

* * *

Again.

“Sans, Sans,” they say, chirping. Like a bird. They’re smiling so brightly and in the golden light, he thinks of the garden in the throne room.

Asgore is likely tending it as this goes on, humming and blissfully oblivious. Sans can’t help but think that there likely isn’t any wind behind that large door back home. That there’s still a cold pile of dust that has yet to be scattered.

In comparison, the winds at Waterfall might still be howling. Alphys might still be shivering, hidden and hysterical along with so many other evacuated monsters. Papyrus might be disappointed from wherever he is if he’s anywhere at all; he finds he can’t bring himself to care about that.

He just coldly focuses on this and nothing else.

“Let’s just go.”

Chara giggles at him, warm and resonating to the point his bones rattle.

* * *

He wonders if they’re dying on purpose. He had this feeling before—back when he first started remembering. Even though if he didn’t remember now, he could still probably take a look at their face to be able to guess and—

“You’re a real freak, aren’t cha?”

Chara beams adoringly. He almost feels sick.

He’s almost relieved when he notes that they do seem to be dodging seriously and that they’re even being careful, gleefulness aside. They’re quick to recover when he throws them against pillar after pillar, and start performing well enough that it’s clear they’re in fact familiar with his attacks. He’s almost relieved—but mostly sick.

It doesn’t matter anyway. He knows he isn’t going to ‘win’—winning didn’t even entail anything. He just might as well.

Chara rolls to avoid the traps he has springing up. When they get to their feet, they sway a bit.

It’s their turn. So Sans waits. For just a moment.

“I like being here with you,” they say, and they smile at him. So _adoringly_. It’s sickening. “I could do this all day, Sans.”

On his turn, they practically embrace the blast of the blasters before they die.

Sans huffs.

_Again,_ he thinks as his bones rattle. _Again, **again** —_

* * *

Again.

He’ll be stuck here killing the kid he promised he’d look out for again and again until said kid was satisfied. Is this really what his life has amounted to? Everything he did, everything he’s tried for, everything he gave up—for _this_?

God. What’s the point? What’s even the _point_?

She’s dead. And even if time resets, he’s never going to see her again. And with everyone he _will_ see—they’ll just be either dead or away somewhere, futilely hiding from a murderous freak as though staying alive actually makes a difference. It doesn’t. Regardless of what happens, the result will be the same.

Well.

Well, whatever. He might as well do as he does. There’s no point, right?

It’s not like it matters. If nothing else, there was the machine.

_He still had the_ **broken** _machine._

Right now though, the fight hasn’t even started up again yet. The kid stands a little out of range. He could just go to them—it’d only take a few steps—but he’d rather just wait.

He rocks idly on his heels, buries his hand deeper into the pocket he stuffed his brother’s scarf into. He starts to wonder how much of Papyrus’s dust had stuck to the fabric. He wonders how Papyrus would respond to seeing a scene like this.

A beautiful backdrop—for an ugly, ugly confrontation. It’s almost rather tacky.

Papyrus was crying after he witnessed him kill. He was sobbing, even. Sans doesn’t have any memories of him like that even in blurry moments as a baby bones. Papyrus. _Papyrus_.

Sans sighs.

“Alright,” he says and beckons them with his hand. Chara perks up, brightening. He’s momentarily distracted, but he brushes whatever it is off—he’s not even going to bother looking into it—and continues. Repeats. “Let’s just go. Again.”

“Again,” Chara sings, and rushes forward—he lashes out at them because like hell he’ll ever let this kid have the first turn.

They die surprisingly fast.

He doesn’t know what to think about that, except...

_This doesn’t matter. They’ll just reset._

Sans stares blankly down at the battered, bloodied body of a child he said he’d look out for. He laughs, not sure if the sound’s bitter or glad, and simply says, echoing, “Again.”

* * *

But between this reset and the next, Sans sits, curled up and tucked beside one of the many columns. In the warm, golden light of the Judgement Hall, the kid’s corpse is like a blight. It’s such an ugly sight. He does wonder what would happen if the kid gave up, just leaving their body laying here.

Do human bodies just remain? Or do they just disintegrate at an exceptionally slow rate? He wouldn’t know—doesn’t really care either—but the king would. Maybe the king would want them...buried or something. Wasn’t that what people did with dead humans? No, they also burned them if Sans remembered vaguely. But somehow, he got the feeling Asgore would prefer burying.

Again. He’d be burying his kid again if that were the case.

Except, wait. No. The king just stuck the dead kids in coffins, right? Right. Sans forgot about that.

It’s not like it matters either way. But...

_But._

If they stayed dead—and if it were possible to take their SOUL—to break the barrier because Asgore finally had the seven needed... Would there really be a point even then? With so many of them dead and even the ones alive torn apart over everything that happened?

What a miserable sounding ending. What a miserable _joke_.

He’s so tired.

* * *

“Aren’t you tired?”

The question is almost hushed—like if the wrong person heard, it’d somehow be damning. Even though he doesn’t really care—he doesn’t care at all because it’s not like this really matters, right? Right. Still.

“Kid, you’re tired too, right?” Hasn’t he already tried this? Didn’t that mean it wouldn’t work? So why bother then? It wouldn’t work. He shouldn’t bother. _Except..._ “You said you were. You said you were tired of this.”

“I _did_ say that, didn’t I?” Chara asked, cheerfully. Teasingly. Like it was part of a punchline. Sans’s stare darkened. “Well, I don’t feel that way now. Not really. Not anymore. I apologize.”

“Why did that change?” he asked dully. “Was it just because it’s been ‘a while’ since last time? If that’s the case...”

“You’ll just be on standby as I slaughter everyone up until I get here from now on? So that I get tired again?” They’re smiling cordially. It’s almost like this is just casual conversation. It feels like it is, honestly. “Is that what you’re suggesting? I mean—I can’t exactly force you to take action, so... You’re free to do nothing where I’ll ruin everything. That’s fine by me.”

“Is it?” His tone was harsh. “You know, it’s funny. I think there’s more to it. Considering you’ve made it clear what exactly you _want me to_ **_do_**. Have you reconsidered that?”

“Have you?” they parrot innocuously, blinking those wide eyes and tilting their head with that rosy, rosy smile. “Have you, Sans? Have you?”

Sans smiles back. And then, his eye flashed cyan and yellow. There was that oh so familiar bell-like **_ding_** —and a split-second later, their body was once again thrown into the wall. This time into the stained glass window—and how the glass cracked on impact was _resoundingly_ loud.

With those cracks now marring the triangles of the Delta Rune, Sans didn’t even wait a beat before throwing them into the ceiling—and then back into the tiles, cracking those as well.

Chara managed to roll out of the way of the bones that would have sprung up, and they even manage to get back to their feet. They spit out blood, but still smile oh so sweetly at him.

“Won’t you consider it?”

“Not a chance in hell.” He gives an easy grin. “Hey, it’s not so bad that I adamantly refuse. Maybe you can finally learn how to give up. It’s an important lesson.”

“Adamantly, huh?” Chara says, and then, raising their chin, points out, “You look _so_ tired though, Sans! So very, very **_tired_**.”

That grin twitches. He pulls his left hand from its pocket, from the nest of his brother’s scarf.

“It’s an important lesson.” Sans reiterates, as both his hand and his eye began to glow. “And if nothing else, I’ll be glad to teach you _all about it_.”

“Hehe.” They giggle. “Okay.”

* * *

“Do you want to know what actually changed since then?” Chara does ask during the next time their battle’s about to start once again. “I’ll tell you if you’re really curious. I don’t mind.”

Sans huffed. “I don’t actually care, kid.”

Even that matter-of-fact retort didn’t deter them.

“I actually do have something to aim for now. A goal, outside of just pushing through, just killing.” They leapt over streams of bones, narrowly dodging any in the air as though they were weaving through a crowd. “My perspective changed. And I realized that I could change the game, too.”

He was quick to step back as they swiped their knife at him. The red gleam caught the light filtered through the window, and he sidestepped out of the way as it was brought down.

Swipe. Jab. Thrust.

He knew these patterns by heart, even without the memory.

“Just with you.” Chara breathes. “All I needed to do was change _you_. And it was like gaining a second wind—a second purpose. A new game—something new. I can be patient for that. I can...”

“You know,” he says, and teleports to behind them. The kid spins around quickly, eyes bright and manic, and Sans just huffs. “This much attention could suffocate a guy. Ever thought of just taking it _easy_?”

His magic lashed out quickly, and they had to be extra swift if they were to avoid the appearing blasters which fired with only a second of warning.

It didn’t go so well. They ended up burning their elbow and had to quickly switch the hand holding the knife and—they tripped over bones that sprang up too low for them to immediately see.

Sans did not waste the opportunity given and they felt the full force of the canon’s blast before they managed to throw their body into the wall. The air was burning, the stench of singed clothes, hair, and sizzled skin all the more grotesque, and that body was still twitching.

At least the red-brown eyes that rolled over towards him, blinking as though it hurt, seemed perfectly intact.

“You uh, ain’t looking so hot there, kiddo. Why not lay down and cool off?” He gestured with his left hand, almost innocuously. There was a spark in his eye socket and then—

There was that _ding_ and Sans flung their body down.

Like darts to a dartboard, bones pierce through them in an instant.

And yet.

“I...can...be p-patient...”

Still alive, albeit gurgling.

Sans narrowed his sockets, and they only saw his left eye flash yellow before picking up on the whirling build of a blaster’s energy. Between that or more of those bones, this really was the more merciful of ways to die.

“Patient or not,” Sans says, coldly and simply. “This is all there’s ever going to be.”

Chara could have laughed again had the blaster not gone off immediately after that.

* * *

“But maybe it doesn’t have to be that way,” Sans says halfway through the next. He’s all calm and smiles, and what tense edges are there are ones that Chara has to squint for. Their sight blurs, so maybe, just maybe... “Maybe we can just, uh, not fight anymore after all?”

“Are you just going to give up?” they ask. They only blink. Sans just shrugs.

“I mean. You can see it that way. I’d like to think of it as a proposed compromise.”

“So we both stop. Right?” Chara pushes on. “Are you going to just let me pass? Will you just step out gracefully as I make my way towards Asgore?”

“You’re just going to reset, right?” Sans points out. “Whether I’m in your way or not—you reset at the end of every run-through you do in the Underground. So it doesn’t matter, does it? You know, I’m actually wondering something...”

“What is it?” Chara’s honestly curious. He is, too.

“Do you ever make it to the surface yourself? Theoretically, you _should_ be able to, but...” Sans does hesitate here, looking off to the side at one of the windows. His gaze skims over the rows of triangles. Then his stare snaps back, lights in his sockets bright with a wide grin like there had never been so much as a flicker. “Is it possible that you don’t have full control of the resets after all?”

They flinch.

“So is it like... There’s a point down here that... No matter how many times you reach it, the only option is to reset and go through everything again?” Sans hums, looking up thoughtfully at the ceiling. Almost like that ceiling had something to say about all this. “You know, I had suspected. The way you talked about the resets certainly had its implications that gave those suspicions some extra weight... Honestly, it was obvious this was in fact the case.”

He laughs into his hand. Chara begins to twitch.

“Knowing how you are, it’s no surprise you didn’t just say this directly. You _know_ it—you make it so, so _obvious_ —but you can’t bear to **_say_** it, can ya, kid?”

They begin to shake.

“...Sh...”

“I mean, I get the feeling. You have any idea how hard it is to say some things, even if you know they’re true in your heart of hearts? It’s difficult. No matter how much time goes by, it’s always difficult.”

“S-Sh...ut...”

“But still, fact of the matter is just knowing isn’t enough. Not if you don’t truly acknowledge it.” Sans shakes his head and smiles dolefully. They tremble. His tone is as steady as the ground they stand on. “You understand that, don’t you, Chara?”

Chara choked on their words. He went on, so easily and so, so clearly.

“I get it. I do. I mean, it took me a while to accept this situation myself. It’s awful, huh?” He cuts straight to the point. “Being trapped down here with the rest of us—because the resets don’t allow _you_ leaving the Underground either, do they?”

“Shut up.” Their voice is barely above a whisper. They can barely hear those words with their own ears, so they repeat them, louder though not by much. “Shut _up_.”

“And even with that command you’ve assumed over this timeline—you still can’t _control_ that no matter what you do.” It’s like he hasn’t heard them at all. He’s still smiling sadly. They twitch and twitch and his voice doesn’t waver. “So you just stick with it, doing the same things over and over because you have no idea what else to do.”

“Sans.” Chara’s not even sure anymore of what they’re trying to say. “ _Sans_.”

“So, uh, do you even make it to the surface?” he asks, like it’s a perfectly innocuous question. “Do you even see a glimpse of it? You had to have come from it, but I’m starting to wonder if...you even remember what the sky looks like. If you haven’t seen it since before all this.”

Silence. Dead silence. They’re still twitching.

“I’ve always wanted to see the sky,” Sans says, almost wistfully. He looks at the windows again, at the filtering golden light and at the shimmering Delta Rune. “Hell, I’d wish on the rocks down here that I’d get to see real stars all the time. I wondered if all the pictures I’d see did the real thing any justice.”

_“...Chara...”_

_Asriel’s voice is quiet. Like the twinkling of bells and stars themselves, and it’s so quiet as he shifts to face Chara as the two of them lie side by side. “Can I ask you something?”_

_Chara blinks at him, wide-eyed and curious, taking in the glimmer in their brother’s soft, soft gaze. “What is it?”_

_“What’s the sky like on the surface?”_

_“Oh,” they exhale, and then with a laugh, “Well, it’s...”_

“It’s...” they mutter, and then repeat tersely. “ ** _It’s_**...”

_It’s beautiful. It’s calming. It’s there. It’s alright, I suppose._

“Well, it’s...”

_My memory’s a bit **cloudy** , hehe._

**_Cloudy?_ **

“Chara?”

**_“What does cloudy mean, Chara?”_ **

_Chara._ Asriel’s voice. Ringing in their ear—and they can’t quite think anymore. _Chara. Chara, can you tell me about the sky? How blue is it? What are clouds? What are stars actually like? Chara, what exactly is a star anyway—? Chara. Chara..._

**_“Chara...!”_ **

“Are you even _listening_ , Chara?” Sans’s voice cuts through almost irritably when he asks. Laughingly, he then adds, “Or, uh, are you just _spacing out_?”

Chara doesn’t answer, but they do perk up, their body seizing and—

“Sans.”

They only pause for a heartbeat.

“ _S h u t **u p**_.”

Sans just grins. And Chara lashes out.

* * *

They don’t kill him. They do try. But he just dodges, dodges, dodges.

“Wow, I seemed to have made you _really_ mad.” And for some reason he sounds amused. “Huh. But I do feel like this isn’t just about me. Then again, I, uh,” He teleports just as they would’ve sliced through his midsection. With a huff they hear from behind, they quickly spin around as he sighs oh so calmly, “I don’t _really_ care.”

He knows their patterns considerably well. They know his patterns perfectly, of course, but said patterns are still considerably harder to dodge. That’s how it feels anyway.

Frustrating. But fun. A relief, almost.

Still. Still, still, still.

“You’re right,” they say, and he sidesteps out of the way of their next attempted swipe. “You’re absolutely right, Sans. That said I... I’d really appreciate it if you’d just **_silence_** yourself for the moment.”

Sans perks up, huffing out a laugh. Their grip on the knife quivers, and they quickly jump out of the way of those next few attacks. Dodge, dodge, and dodge.

Repetitive. But it helps them focus; helps them think.

In the very least, Sans doesn’t look terribly interested in talking to them anymore. His grin was still sharp, still had a bit of a sneer to it—but at least he was being...

“When you say ‘right’... Can I ask what I’m right about?”

“No.” Their answer is flat and immediate. “No, you can’t. Just shut up. Just stay silent.”

“How about...” He stills after he’s leapt back. He smiles up at them. “How about we just stop?”

Chara does still, and their stare hardens.

“I mean, as I said earlier, it doesn’t matter.” One of his hands pulls itself out of his pocket to gesture. Even if for the most part, he just shrugs. “You didn’t give me a straight answer to me offering this earlier. Instead we got off-track, and yeah I’m partially to blame for that because I got distracted with...other things...”

_“Chara, what’s a star?”_

Chara huffs.

Sans goes on with another shrug. “So I figure—I’ll just repeat my offer here. It’s still on the table and you can still go for it, no love lost. I’m not worth much regardless. So, whattaya say?”

“So we stop. And then...?” They gesture for him to continue. Sans smiles silently at them. Of course he’s quiet now. They’re not surprised, even if they’re irritated. It’s all irritation from earlier that still hasn’t fizzled out because Sans has not been trying hard enough to _kill them_. “I just walk on through and kill Asgore. That’s all there is to it, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, right?”

“No.” Chara agrees. Because it doesn’t. There’s no point in saying that it does when it doesn’t. “In that case... Will you step aside?”

“Gotta have your word first,” Sans says with a shake of his head. His grin strains a bit. He’s sweating again. They’re not sure if it’s really nerves. “You have to promise. Alright?”

“Do you want to pinky swear on it?” They ask flatly. Just as humorlessly, Sans laughs.

“Nah. I’d uh, I’d like to keep my gloves on.”

“Okay. Fine. I promise.” Chara keeps their tone light, but the words weigh heavily. Sans’s smile twitches and then his responding laugh seems a lot livelier. Chara watches, feels their soul stir at the sight—Sans’s laugh is so different from Asriel’s; low tones in place of high dulcets—and they swallow. They press on, coldly and tightly, “Now will you step aside, Sans?”

Sans lingers, but he does nod and concede.

...They hadn’t really expected that.

“Are you going to attack me as I pass?” Their voice raises, just a bit, their smile widening. “This isn’t just a trick so that you can kill me with my guard down, right? Not only would that be quite rude, _I don’t like being tricked_ , Sans.”

Sans huffed, but all the same, “I’m not going to kill you. Promise. Cuz it’d only be _fair_.”

Even with that twitch at the edge of his grin, Chara perked up. Then, with a chortle, they put their knife away and began to walk on through. Their footsteps reverberated across the hall along with their giggle and as they passed Sans by, they regarded him fondly. Sans returned their stare—but his expression didn’t change at all.

Ultimately, they made it to the end of the hall without any disturbance. Sans didn’t even attempt to harm them. Chara still didn’t relax, especially with their back turned.

When they couldn’t fight off the urge and glanced back however, Sans was nowhere in sight.

“...Huh.” Chara blinked a few times, and squinted for any sign he was just hiding. They scanned the shadows for blues—but the only colors they could see were shades of orange and gold. They looked harder, but that didn’t change at all.

“Sans?” Chara continued to look around. They called again, just a bit louder. “Sans.”

No one answered. _But nobody came._

Like earlier in the timeline, they couldn’t feel his presence at all. Almost like they really were alone.

Alright, then. Whatever, they supposed. They’ll just...turn around and...make their way to Asgore and then...

They stopped dead in their tracks.

_Oh._

They finally got a good look at the double doors at the end of the corridor. And how they hadn’t realized said doors actually had intricate patterns carved into the wood. They also noticed just how lovely those patterns looked when illuminated by the soft white glow of the bones blocking the doors.

**_Oh._ **

Chara’s smile twitched. Then they laugh and laugh and laugh and—then they stomp their foot down hard against the tiles as they _seethed_.

* * *

Sans was still chuckling after when the kid inevitably had to restart. Though he did wince a bit when he moved enough to have that spring dig into a sensitive part of his spine. There was always some part of him that felt sore.

He’s used to it but it’s still uncomfortable. Speaking of uncomfortable, that kid’s going to gut him the next time they meet. He knows it in his bones. With how angry they probably got at his trick, it’s probably going to hurt a thousand times worse than normally.

Well, whatever. It wouldn’t compare to...

“Sans, you lazybones!! Are you still NAPPING?!”

Sans doesn’t flinch at the next shout of his name nor when the door opens and slams against the wall. That poor wall—maybe he should convince his brother it has feelings. Maybe the floor, too, with how Papyrus stomps. Sans still greets him, albeit strained, “Bro...”

“Don’t ‘bro’ me, brother!!” Papyrus immediately snaps, crossing his arms with a huff. “You should be up already! Do you have any idea what time it is?!”

He actually has no idea. Nor does he actually care. But, because he knows Papyrus, he knows the proper answer. “Go time?”

“GO TIME!” His brother exclaimed. “As in it’s time to _go about the day_!! And you can’t do that while still _LYING IN BED_ , Sans!”

Was this how their conversation went on this day in his earliest memories from before he was forced to remember? He isn’t sure—but it does reek of familiarity. Comfortable familiarity. Papyrus has definitely given him this speech more than once.

But. His brother looks especially tense and wary. His arms are crossed tighter than they’d usually be.

“Uh,” Sans does reach out for him, and smiles a bit helplessly. “Up? What’s _up_ , Papyrus?”

“You know what’s up, Sans,” Papyrus groans even as he does take that outstretched hand to help his brother up. Sans just shrugs as he does.

“Eh, but only on the _surface level_.” He winks. Papyrus can’t help but snort. And then, delightedly, Sans points out. “You’re chuckling. That’s more like it.”

“W- _Well_!! Neither of us even know what’s on the surface other than what’s in magazines and shows.” Papyrus quickly argued, though he wasn’t very effective in keeping his grin down. “Either way! You shouldn’t make jokes so early in the morning! You need to start out the day SERIOUSLY!”

“I seriously can’t imagine a good morning without a good laugh.”

“Well, huh,” his brother thought this over pensively. “You know, Sans, that’s actually a good point for once.” Hands on his hips, he shot Sans the brightest of grins. “Perhaps we shall put laughing practices into our routine! Exercise our vocal chords! Nye _HEH_! Let’s see if we can wake even the stragglers in Snowdin!”

Sans did laugh at that, even if his laughter was too breathy to be loud.

“Aw jeez, uh... Don’t... Don’t actually do that, Paps. If we’re so loud we wake even Undyne we might just...dis-a- _spear_.”

“And our morning power jog will be even MORE powerful!! Because of how FAST we’ll have to run!” Papyrus exclaimed, still unbelievably radiant to the point of blinding. “Sans! Let’s get going right away! I bet we can even shave time this way! Oh, but let’s not forget the morning spaghetti. That’s VERY important!”

Despite everything, it sounded like one _hell_ of a good time.

_But._

“Papyrus, I actually have some things I need to do today.” Papyrus blinks at him a few times—he almost looks dumbfounded. Fair enough. Sans would feel the same way in his shoes—boots as it were. “There’s a couple of errands that I need done in Hotland. I’m afraid that, on top of everything else, you might not be seeing much of me today.”

Though for Papyrus, he didn’t have much time in general with that damned kid.

Sans’s teeth began to grit, as his brother cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“ _Really_? That’s so— _proactive_ of you, Sans!! I’m surprised you didn’t just ask me to get said errands done instead.” Papyrus laughed, putting his hands on his hips, grinning wide as added, “I, of course, would have likely gotten them done a lot faster— _but_!!” Snapping to attention, he hurriedly finished with, “I don’t mean to dissuade you from taking responsibility for once! Of _COURSE_ not!!”

“Well,” Sans says, and maybe he’s a bit exasperated. “I know how much you hate Hotland.”

“That I do! Hotland’s the WORST!” His brother doesn’t even hesitate in shouting that. In his face even. He’s already ranting, too, having not missed a beat either. “With those gross VENTS and ANNOYING conveyor belts—I really don’t understand why you manage not one but TWO stations _there_ of all the places in Underground!”

“Eh.” Sans shrugs helplessly. “Well, I have other jobs there too. It’s good for business. What with the spider bakeries and... MTTV...”

“Wait.” Papyrus holds up a hand to stop him. Somehow, his eye sockets are sparkling. “Are you visiting _Mettaton_?!”

“Huh...? No....?” Except technically... “Well. He might be in the area. Maybe.”

“REALLY?!”

“...Yeah. I wouldn’t rule out the possibility, at least.”

“ ** _WOWIE_**!”

Wow, Papyrus looked really, really excited right now. And then there was a glint in his gaze that Sans couldn’t help but perk up at.

“Sans.” Papyrus took his shoulders, resuming that nonsensically no-nonsense expression. “As much as I appreciate your strangely sudden urge to do things like errands, I have to ask if you’re absolutely sure that I, your very cool and very reliable brother, can’t do them instead.”

“Huh. Wow, bro,” Sans says, and averts his gaze with the lights in his sockets flickering upwards. “That’s uh, really generous of you. You’d do that even at the expense of me being even lazier than usual?”

“...Well! You’ve been getting better...! In... _some_ places...” Papyrus averted his gaze too, though considerably more hesitant. “T-That and... You _do_ have sentry duty today... I wouldn’t want you ever skipping work...”

“But _you’d_ be skipping work. And that’d be so unexpected of you as far as everyone else is concerned.” Sans shook his head, an edge of his smile tugging upwards as he quirked a non-existent brow. “You’d risk Undyne’s disappointment for my errands?”

“Family is important. Undyne understands that.” Even though the response was almost instinctive, it was clear his brother was losing more and more of that spark from before.

Sans goes on, “Not to mention, you _hate_ Hotland so you’ll be unhappy the entire time you’re there...”

“That’s not necessarily true!” Papyrus quickly says, “Because, after all, _METTATON_ will be there-!!”

“...Ah.” Sans said, utterly unsurprised. “So _that’s_ why you want to go.”

Papyrus’s jaw clicks shut. Sans’s grin widens as his brother looks down like an embarrassed kid caught with their hand in the jar. His hands don’t drop from Sans’s shoulders, so Sans pats one of them with a laugh.

_“Your poor kid brother,”_ a voice echoes in his skull, and his smile drops when that voice shifts to **theirs**. _“He still has_ **no** _idea—then again, he’s not terribly smart in the first place, is he?”_

He grips that hand, laugh coming out harsher than he intended.

“If I see the guy, I can pass on a message or something. Maybe get an autograph. I really can’t make promises, but...”

Papyrus’s gaze snapped back up to him, though his head was still down. “Would you really?”

“Like I said.” Sans keeps it simple as that with a thankfully lighter chuckle. Papyrus still squeals. Sans waits until he’s done before resuming. “Either way, Papyrus, I wouldn’t have been alright with you doing my errands. Even I have standards.”

“It must be very important then,” Papyrus mused, more curiously but quickly met his stare with a narrowed gaze. “I would hope it’s nothing unsavory, Sans. Like _another_ illegal hot dog stand.”

“Hey, I _had_ the papers—somewhere, probably, maybe in the trash tornado—either way, my record is clean.” He raises his hand, puffing out his chest. “Sentry’s honor, I swear on my totally legal stand.”

Papyrus snorted, then, after pulling back, he began to laugh.

Sans wanted to laugh too. He almost did. He would’ve if not for the memory of Chara’s giggling fluttering across his mind. Echoing in the back of his skull, like a spider skittering across the surface. And he knew how that literally felt. He could laugh it off now when at the time he’d been shaking so badly.

His brother looked vibrant. He was laughing over something that was silly now but might’ve been a real issue at the time. He was laughing like there were no real issues _now_.

**_“He really has no idea.”_ **

“I need to get going.” Sans said. Papyrus stopped with momentarily widened sockets before going right back to stern.

“Not before BREAKFAST, Sans! Otherwise you’ll just be too tired to function! If you’re going to be busy, then you should be FULLY functional!”

“I... Yeah.” Sans shrugs, laughs awkwardly, and he looks off to the wall with a narrowing his gaze. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

He didn’t bother catching the weird look Papyrus gave him—but he did smile up at him when Papyrus moved to place a hand on the back of his shoulder and urged him on ahead.

* * *

He kinda forgot just how easy Alphys was to startle.

“E-Eep! Sans!”

“I used the front door this time,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. Alphys looks no less flustered as she fumbles around her desk, scooping up what she spilled. At least it wasn’t any drinks this time—he left his napkins at the station by the door. “So. How have you been? It’s been a...while...hasn’t it?”

It has, though in different ways. His last memory of Alphys was him calling her about evacuating all the monsters—was him reassuring her as she sobbed and gasped, pretending like he himself wasn’t teetering over that fragile edge. Laughing at the void with the void laughing back—all while Alphys begged him to get Asgore to their shelter before the human came by.

He just let her cry and cry and only apologized. And, well... She...

_“S-Sans...” she hiccuped, and he could already picture her pressing her hand to her eyes, shoulders trembling and glasses askew. “A-At least get back here safe, a-alright? I-I... I can’t... I can’t do this on my own... P-Please... Please don’t die to them too...”_

In another not that much better world, he might have actually agreed to that. Now, it’s neither here nor there.

Alphys rubs at her eyes out of tiredness and not grief. His smile is still sympathetic, never faltering even as she looks him over and sighs at the floor.

“Y-You know you’re not supposed to wear s-slippers in the lab, Sans,” Alphys admonishes. To that he dutifully slips said slippers off his feet. But she still goes on, irritated, “T-This must be the hundredth time I’d had to...remind you.”

“Well,” Sans says as he sets those slippers aside before pulling out the sneakers he brought. He slips those on instead. “You know me, Alph. I’m not a real _straight-laced_ guy—that’s more of my bro’s thing.”

“O-Oh _brother_ ,” she groaned good-naturedly to which he immediately snickered. She does smile back. “So, uh, to what do I owe the pleasure...?”

“You make it sound so formal. Are all Royal Scientists like that?” He set about tying the laces on his shoes in quick, smooth motions. Alphys perked up at that attentively. Sans still went on so casually, “We’re pals, right? I mean, watching shows together is definitely a thing that pals do. Speaking of shows, Mettaton hasn’t been giving you too much trouble, right?”

“N-No...” She swallowed. “You too, I-I presume?”

“What, me? Nah. We get along _fabulously_. Though it’d be nice if he didn’t separate me from the other comedians. Makes me feel a little too special. Puts the pressure on. You know what I mean?”

Sans adjusted his shoes, pressing his heel into the ground and flashing Alphys a wide grin. She does return it, but...

“Sans...” she starts, voice only wavering a little. “I-Is something wrong?”

“Nah. No real _issues_ here.” But even with that light-hearted chuckle, it was like there was...something else. Something heavier. But maybe she imagined it. Maybe she...

_...uh..._ “I-If you say...so...?”

“There is something that is a bit bothersome though.” Sans says, to her complete surprise. He’s already making her way to her. Those sneakers squeak—his footsteps ring a bit louder. She’s froze up out of instinct, but quickly forces herself to relax because, because— _dammit, Al, it’s just **Sans** , there’s nothing to be so on edge about_—!!

“Y-Yes?” Her voice shook even more than usual. “Um... U-Uh... W-What is...?”

He’s already directly in front of her, only an arm’s length away. And he points down. She drops her stare in a way she hopes isn’t too nervously.

“The only shoelaces I have left are ratty ones.” He says. And yes, the strings on his sneakers do look...especially ratty. “Isn’t that the saddest sight you’ve ever seen? Those kids have yet to return my good strings. And I don’t think they ever will.”

“I’d give you some s-strings myself, but... I... I don’t wear shoes...” Alphys shrugged helplessly. “Y-You...could just go to the dump and dig around...”

“I’m a frayed knot.” Sans answered matter-of-factly. It took her a second. But he went on all the same. “I’m a very, very busy guy, Alph.”

“Y-Yet here you are visiting me...” She blinks a few more times and then grimaces. “W-Why do I get the idea this isn’t a-all there is to it? J-Just get to the point, Sans, I... I’m very busy...”

“Sorry, sorry,” He laughed apologetically, but pulled out his neatly folded list and handed it over. “The truth is that, uh, I need quite a bit of the stuff you see here. On this list. Look, I know this looks really, really weird and definitely a little suspicious but... Trust me. It’s important. Really, really important.”

“You... You d-don’t have to justify yourself to me, Sans.” She laughs herself, probably to lighten up the mood. Saying all this to be kind—or maybe she feels she’s repaying a debt somehow. She takes the list gingerly, unfolding it to read it carefully. Her smile falters. “Uh... W-Wow... _Really_?”

“How much do you think it all costs?” he asks, and he’s already pulling out his wallet. He’s distracted, for a moment, at the faded picture he has of himself and his brother, but quickly goes on. “It’s probably a lot, right? Heh. I... I might not have the money, but I can pay at least a down payment or something. Make the rest up later—or compensate in other ways. I can get more of that dog food brand you like...”

“Oh no, no! Y-You don’t have to do all that!!” Alphys protested, shaking her head furiously and forcing another laugh, albeit one that’s blatantly strained. “I-I was just surprised! T-This... This, uh... These are some advanced parts... I-I don’t even know if I have all these lying around somewhere... And who knows when I’ll get what I d-don’t have... Uh...”

“What _do_ you have, Al? Can you hazard a percentage?”

“Um... Uh... M-Maybe sixty-eight...? I could... I could...” She swallows and then, “I-I might be able to find decent enough substitutions! T-That sounds better, right?”

“Well, I’m not expecting perfection, Alphys.” _But wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be great? Of course, it’d never be that easy. Isn’t this why I gave up on that thing in the first place? It’d be wonderful if I could afford to give up again._ “Anything helps. Anything’s better than nothing.”

“Okay... Okay...” She pushed up her glasses as she nodded. She smiles up at him, brightly albeit shyly. “W-We’ll just see what I can do and hope for the best!!”

Hoping’s really never gotten him very far. It’s hard to hope. But for her sake, he does grin back like it’s the easiest thing.

* * *

As the two of them are picking up parts and navigating through organized chaos together, it’s easy to feel like he’s right back at earlier times. Alphys still stammered and tripped over words as well as her own two feet on occasion but her smile then hadn’t changed from earlier at all. Now that he thinks about, monsters rarely change at all even overtime. Even without resets. They’re consistent. Predictable.

If not for his notes, would he ever have suspected...?

_Well._ Sans quickly thinks, quirking a grin and cracking a joke that made Alphys groan at him. _It’s not like it really matters either way._

Alphys was muttering. He kept on chuckling. It was so obvious she was flustered. He would have known even without the familiarity.

After a while, she smiled back, a little more at ease and with a little bit of what could be called relief. And isn’t that nice? It is nice. It’s a very nice sight. And it’s a shame. It’s a real crying shame considering what’ll happen later.

Sans thought about Alphys’s voice, cracking and breaking in-tune with the phone’s static. He had wondered what her expression looked like—if there were even words for the kind of breakdown she had to be having. At the time, he had no words for her at all. It couldn’t be helped—not in such a help _less_ situation.

“...Um..."

But Alphys was being a big help right now. Honestly, she was probably the one he had to rely on most at the moment. Not like he’d tell her that. She hardly needed to feel pressured—or to feel pressing curiosity as it were.

“...Ah... I-I think that’s everything...??” Alphys looked over the list a second time and then a third, humming and mumbling. “I-I... I don’t know what to do about a couple of these... But! If I figure something out, I-I’ll let you know as soon as possible!”

_That’s not likely to do me any good._ But Sans smiled in gratitude anyway. “I’ll really appreciate that, Alph. You’re a real pal, you know that?”

“I-It’s the least I could do... Y-You help me out a lot too...” Alphys said as she looked down a bit, blushing with light reflecting off her glasses. There wasn’t a lot of light in these rooms, but Alphys didn’t need much light to see. It was more energy-efficient this way, really. He could appreciate that, too.

Sans could genuinely appreciate a lot of things.

“Well,” he says, shrugging and winking. “What are friends for, ammirite? We’re friends, Alph.”

Alphys snorted, into her hand. Though she coughed a bit, too, wiping her claws off her lab coat.

“Y-Yes,” she says, almost like she can hardly believe it herself. “Yes, we are.”

He keeps on grinning, but his grip on the parts he’s carrying tightens.

* * *

As much as he would’ve liked for an uneventful exit, with the typical ‘see you later’ and kind regards, he figured it was about time that the human show up. He was right.

“O-Oh my gosh— _oh my gosh_!!”

Sans continued staring dully at the screen as she fumbled to get back to her chair, fixated the way she’d be with her favorite shows. Eagerly scanning all the screens for every little detail the camera could capture—all these things that he didn’t even have to try to notice anymore.

How Chara always shut the door with their back—how they walked stiffly, sometimes shambling, especially when they were as irritated as they were now, how their head jerked around back and forth as they looked about the area. They’re looking for him, he knows, but Alphys is musing on how peculiar that is... Almost like...

“L-Like...they’re expecting someone..?” And then she nervously laughs. She’s had to have seen this behavior before on at least one of her shows—she’s watched so many—but in this situation, wasn’t it strange? After all, humans don’t show up in the Underground very often.

This is a special occasion.

This kid’s the last soul they need. And so Alphys watches with intrigue and anxiety—with the latter winning out the more and more Chara shows off their brightly unsettling colors. To her, it’s _new_ , he thinks. Admittedly, he hasn’t seen the kid in angles quite like these. Both distant and too close for comfort when Alphys zooms one of the cameras in.

She flinches because she finally notices just how much _dust_ there is on the kid. But she again laughs if off nervously— _well, they just came from those ancient, likely very dusty ruins, right,_ and he hadn’t realized how easy that justification comes to mind. That’s probably what anyone who sees this kid would tell themselves. He’d go along with that because it was easier.

It’s just easier.

They really did look upset. Their expression was—well, not really worth being graced with any kind of description. Alphys was trembling as though she was in the midst of recalling something frightening. It didn’t look like she remembered what it was exactly—but the feeling remained.

She was already biting at her claws the way she did when she was _really_ uneasy.

“Hey, Alph.”

She jumped immediately, but quickly forced herself to relax. Sans just smiled back as she shot him a tentative glance. She soon sighed.

“D-Don’t do that,” she scolded half-heartedly but soon hesitated. “Um... Are you g-going to be on your way, Sans? Y-You...should probably tell your brother about the...”

“You should call Undyne,” he cuts in, and plucks her phone from the desk. She flinches but he just moves it to where it only ever so slightly nudges her hand. “She should be at her house around this time. If not, she’s good about checking the answering machine.”

Alphys blinked at her phone dumbly, a little taken aback.

“O-Oh... Right.”

She looks at him weirdly, like he’s the oddity here and not the human on her screens. And all he’s doing is just smiling as he always does. But rather than calming, Alphys shudders.

Sans flickers his gaze past her to Chara on the screens. How the chilled wind tousles their hair and obscures their features but he can still make out the blush on their cheeks. It’s even pinker than usual because of the cold. It matches well with the chestnut-brown tresses and with the red faded ribbon woven through those locks.

Sans thinks of her, even with how indistinguishable his image of her was, tying that ribbon in their hair. He thinks about how he didn’t have to see her face back then to know she was on the verge of tears when making those pleas. He thinks about how he could hear the tremor in her voice and knew her shoulders must have been shaking too.

He’s still as he sees the kid leap onto one of the Ice Caps wandering around. Their hands don’t even shake as they stab until the monster is nothing but dust. They only stumble in pushing theirself back up when it’s over, and shuffle onto the next.

Alphys lets out a sharp gasp of horror. He hadn’t noticed she glanced back at the screen—she must have been curious as to what the human did to have him so fixated.

“Oh no...” she breathed and fumbled to dial Undyne’s number on her phone, missing the speed dial a couple of times. “Oh no, oh no, oh _no_ —!”

Sans just says, without giving anything away, “I really should get going.”

Alphys isn’t even paying him any mind anymore. So it’s much easier to just gather the parts and leave without another word. By the time she remembers him, he’s already gone and it’s just as well.

* * *

He’s tempted, however, to call Undyne himself. If there’s one thing Undyne takes seriously when the two of them are talking, it’s the subject of Papyrus. She’ll probably order him to evacuate immediately with everyone else and let her handle it since he’s not with him. He’d laugh off her protective concerns—her role as everyone’s protector that she takes so, so seriously regardless of who it is she’s protecting—but she’d be so _dead serious_ that any and all jokes would fall flat before he could even vaguely form them.

It’s here when she’s at her most difficult to tolerate. It’s in that mood where Sans avoids her the most. He can handle her being carelessly violent to the point of being a hazard just by being within the same general vicinity. He can handle her yelling, her outright screaming, and even sleep through it. He can’t handle her at all when she’s like _that_.

It just wouldn’t get either of them anywhere. He can’t be bothered to handle that. So he doesn’t, and just trusts her to act however dead serious he knows she’ll be following Alphys’s call.

Because it’s easier.

* * *

It takes him a while to remember what goes where, even with the notes he’s made. But it’s not like said notes were tidily organized or neatly written for that matter. Still, he manages for the most part.

Metal scrapes against delicate phalanges and leaves behind a bit of a sting. Sans barely blinks differently as he fiddled with the wires. His gaze roams over the machine, and with one look, he sees several more things that need to be worked on.

More parts he’d need. More parts that he didn’t have lying around and couldn’t even be sure if Alphys would have. Next timeline, he supposed, he’ll visit her again. But she’s not going to have everything. She didn’t this time and she won’t in later times. He’ll have to come up with effective substitutions.

The more he thinks, the more tired he gets.

So he stops, pulling back with twitching fingers and sore carpels. He pushes himself back against the cold metallic floor. And then he lies down, causing papers to get caught and crumble underneath his back. He stares at the ceiling of the miniature lab and spreads his arms out.

Sans shuts his eye sockets tight. Bits of dust get stuck in his skull. It’s uncomfortable, but he can block that out. It doesn’t even take long before he drifts.

It’s not for long. Not so long that he wakes up on anything but the cold metallic floor. And he does get back up to resume working. Later. He gets...some more things done. A few extra drops in the bucket. It’s not like he expected any different.

Maybe he was hoping for less cricks in his neck and shoulders. Now _that_ was really nothing more than wishful thinking.

All the same, he’s gotten good at ignoring the dull aches. He might as well get better at it. Said aches could get near unbearable in times when he’s fighting the kid in the hall.

Sans, pausing in tapping the pencil against his mandible, clicks his jaw shut. He scribbles down one last note before returning to the machine. Another part clicked into place, but all he could see was one of the many, many remaining gaps.

* * *

Snowdin was long abandoned when he finally came out of the lab, wiping his hands off his coat before pulling his mittens back on. Without the warm, lively residents about, it was always even colder and a lot deader after an evacuation.

Sans shudders, but walks on through. There are some fresher tracks that he can identify as belonging to one of the kids. His gaze warily sweeps along the trail, but the kid in question is thankfully nowhere in sight. Papyrus would no doubt panic if some monster kid was running amok in such tense times.

When Sans got to the foggy edge of the border between Snowdin and Waterfall, he couldn’t make out the red of Papyrus’s scarf at all. If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t even think about this place as where someone died, much less his brother.

Even now, he really wondered. Maybe Undyne got him out of there. Maybe he’s still alive.

Sans lets those hopes flutter like little petals in the wind, and then laughs at the thought as those hopes wilt and die with the audacity of even hoping like that in the first place.

Papyrus just died somewhere else. He’s sure of it. And, well, he can afford to scan the entirety of the area for his scarf before meeting up with the kid. He’s got his shortcuts. So...

* * *

...So it’s a surprise when it turns out how unnecessary those shortcuts really were. Because as it turned out, the kid was taking their time crossing Waterfall. And so he manages to stumble across Undyne on accident.

He only sees her in the distance, looming and beyond intimidating in that heavy armor of hers with only the red of her hair clashing against the metal. The red of her hair and the red of the scarf she has wound around her neck.

Sans does still, and he almost wants to laugh—but he’s dead silent the second he imagines what the scene must have looked like when Undyne retrieved that scarf and realized what happened. She must have expected it on some level. She must have known what would happen, but still hoped she could somehow prevent it—

He’s not really surprised. But he’s still...bothered.

Even though there’s nothing to say or to do for that matter. Not really.

He’s still bothered, so he trails after her. He couldn’t see her expression and didn’t need to—Undyne carried herself almost as blatantly as Papyrus did. Though when noting her gaze as she sought the human, he noted that her usual fire was more...simmering than blazing. But no less resolute. No less— ** _determined_**.

On occasion, she sighs and grips the scarf. Maybe she also mumbles into the fabric. He’s sure she does. He would. So, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did the same.

Except. He’s nothing but surprised when she suddenly turns, and for what was at most nothing but a second—there’s this unmistakable realization flashing across her gaze as she _sees_ him. Through her helmet, he can’t really see much else of her expression. But he’s sure, he’s absolutely sure her stare bugs. He backs away—and she’s much faster in lurching towards him, shouting out, “ ** _SANS_**?! WHAT THE _HELL_ —!”

The second she reaches out towards him, he teleports.

“ _SANS_!!!”

Even gone in a flash, her voice reverberates in his skull for what felt like hours afterwards.

* * *

His bones are rattling. The echo flowers are dead silent. He really shouldn’t be wearing his slippers. With how heavy they get with water, it’s considerably more tedious to trudge his way through. But it gives him something to focus on other than what just happened, even if it only tires him out further.

The silence lulls him too. It shouldn’t. He should be much more alert. It’s just _wrong_ when these flowers are quiet, but he can’t bring himself to care about that now. Not with his rattling, not with how he’s dragging himself through, and not with how—inevitably, in that silence, he thinks of Chara’s giggling overlaying Undyne’s shouting. Of Papyrus’s own laughter from just...this... _morning_.

Sans stops in his tracks. The ripples in the water waver around him. He stares down, blinking for a few moments before tugging at his collar. It’s not quite like tugging at a scarf. He pats his largely vacant pockets for good measure.

He sighs; the flowers sigh with him. He’s tempted, for a moment, to laugh so that they laugh as well.

He doesn’t. He just thinks of Papyrus disintegrating to dust and of Undyne surely following. But maybe she’ll get at least one kill on the—

Abruptly, the flowers stop sighing. They’re back to being dead quiet. Sans stumbled, and he perked up to notice that he was several steps back from where he’d been. His head felt like it was spinning a bit, but all the same, he blinked right back to where he was. After a while though, he’d been sent back to that spot again. And again.

It’s an unnecessary use of magic—but it made it feel like he had at least a semblance of control. It’s funny really. He knows he’s just wasting magic like how the kid’s wasting time.

There’s another reset. He’s sent back again. He teleports to resume his place again.

He doesn’t doubt at this point that these resets have to be because of Undyne.  She must be fighting furiously—maybe even more than usual with what probably happened involving Papyrus. He can’t imagine anyone else giving the kid a challenge. Vaguely, he thinks this had to be the case in the last timeline too, even if he hadn’t been paying much attention.

This time, Undyne must be fighting especially furiously—especially with what probably happened involving Papyrus. Especially with Papyrus’s...scarf.

Sans pauses.

There’s another reset. He’s sent back.

His head’s starting to hurt. He’s starting to notice just how disorienting these setbacks can be. It’s starting to irritate him. It’s beyond _irritating_.

_Imagine how the kid must feel._ He thinks, and his grin twitches. _They must be sick of this—if they aren’t enjoying every second of it. They have to be getting more and more frustrated—or they could be having the time of their life. So why stop now—why ever stop when they’ve gotten this far?_

Determination’s such a stubborn thing. Like curiosity. Like facts. The kid’s pretty stubborn, determination aside. As is Undyne—and she’s also quite determined herself.

Sans is just tired. And he might not be able to keep up with those two after all. So shouldn’t he just might as well wait? _It doesn’t matter, right?_

_“It doesn’t matter,”_ a flower chirped beside him. He hadn’t realized he spoken aloud. He doesn’t really care though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says in agreement.

The words echo all around, over and over. And they do for a while. They’re still resounding as he musters up the effort to start moving forward again. This time, at least, he’s allowed to leave the area. And the flowers are still repeating to one another how nothing matters. Thank god he’s finally allowed to leave.

From that point onward, everything else goes by in blinks.


	8. Feel so Fi-Fi-Fi-Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it just resets, it doesn't matter! It's fine, everything's fine! Even when it's not fine at all!!
> 
> In which Chara does some really uncool things. And Sans considers some uncool things. Not to mention Undyne...is not uncool. She IS cool! She's very, VERY cool!! So cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Sugarless's imaginary inane playlist full of reappropriated songs, I'd like to include the song "You" by Casker for reasons. Other songs include what will be Undyne's unofficial theme, although... I'm going to use it for a chapter title way later so no spoilers for now. ;D
> 
> One of my new favorite things to do every chapter is adjust the tags and look at what a mess this story is turning out to be. But I'm glad people are sticking with it regardless, hahaha... Ahhh... ;w;
> 
> Extra warnings just in case: mind the warnings involving graphic violence. This story's had a lot of violence thus far but it's heavy in this particular chapter and may be a bit more disturbing due to the...nature of the scene. 
> 
> Also on a much milder note, things are going to jump around a bit more in this "mini" (???) arc so scenes are not necessarily in chronological order. In the very least, they're less chronological than before. Hope you don't get too confused!! ;q;

“Really, Chara? You _fell_ for that?”

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Asriel.”

Chara’s tone was sharp as they plopped down in the flowerbed. Flowey shifted through, blinking curiously up at them as he did. That lop-sided smile of his was dismayed but also teasing, especially as he prodded their dirtied calf with a leaf.

“You should know better than to trust anything that trash bag says. Especially when all he says is in fact garbage,” Flowey said matter-of-factly. He almost seemed proud—he was certainly holding himself a lot straighter than before. “But, you know, Chara...”

He laughs, and this time there is an edge to that otherwise light-hearted lilt. “Smiley trash bag’s also a big weakling. That’s why he has to be all sneaky and cowardly. His magic can’t sustain itself for that long so you could have waited until his magic faded away instead of chasing him down. You could have still killed the king! I would have told you sooner—but you reset way too quickly! You’re so impatient, Chara!”

“I would’ve had to reset regardless and I still would’ve had to face Sans next timeline knowing that he tricked me, even if it was momentarily,” Chara replied monotonously, fingers pressing into their cheek. “Whether I’d get to kill the king or not was hardly my main concern in that moment, Asriel.”

“I guess...” Flowey said, glancing off to the side before getting all ruffled. “But we could have just left! There’s a whole other world out there besides this dinky place!”

“Such is why it has to be saved for _last_ , Asriel.” Chara twirled brown hair around their finger in irritation. “When there’s nothing for us here, then we’ll move on. So don’t be so _impatient_ , Asriel.”

That brief flicker of contempt had Flowery flinch and falter.

“...F-Fair enough! It’s stupid to waste possibilities, especially if we might not be able to return to them later.” He did wonder if they’d be able to. And about other things. “But... That lazybones can be really stubborn. Are you sure he’s worth all this trouble? It might all just be a waste of time and effort on a waste of space.”

“You really hate Sans, don’t you, Asriel?” Chara asks, making Flowey immediately stiffen. “That’s quite disheartening to hear. I’m rather fond of him.”

“You’re still unfathomable sometimes,” Flowey noted, shooting them a weird look before he went on. “Then again, you’ve always had a strange sense of humor. So maybe it’s not that surprising that you’ve taken to the smiley trash bag for the moment.  In the very least, he responds more interestingly to you than he ever did to me. And with him remembering, the timelines are subtly shifting. It’s not just the same exact things happening anymore. Guess we have that lazybones to somehow thank for that.”

“He responds _interestingly_ to me, you say?” Chara asked, perking up before grinning wide. “That sounds like jealousy again, Asriel.”

“It’s not!” he quickly and vehemently denied, seething as he shook his head furiously. “I already told you—why are you even suggesting that _again_?!”

“Because it’s cute to see you so flustered,” They said matter-of-factly. Flowey did, in fact, get even more flustered at that. Chara can’t help but add, “I find that fascinating as well as endearing. When you’re like that, it’s almost like you really do feel at least something.”

“That’s...” Flowey deflated. He laughed, but there was such an edge to his smile. Chara smiled back innocently and unaffectedly. Flowey resumed, “If only, huh? It’s still wishful thinking, haha... You still understand that, right, Chara?”

“Of course I do. I was just making an observation,” Chara said simply. “I know it’s the same for you, Asriel. I just tease you because it’s entertaining.”

Flowey let his gaze skim across all the other golden flowers and wiggled his leaves. And, for a second, Chara thought of Asriel wringing his paws nervously with a sheepish smile. Flowey’s smile, compared to that, is a lot sadder. More pitiful.

“With Sans, things are changing, right?” Chara asks, straightening their posture. Their stare was considerably blank. “He’s changing too, even if it’s subtly and inconsistently. But, one way or another, even if we treat him as nicely as we can, he’ll be crushed under the memories of repeating timelines. We both know that’s inevitable, don’t we, Asriel?”

“Yes,” Flowey agrees with a nod. “Of course. Though there is one thing—Sans actually has a _SOUL_ , you know.”

Chara perked up, but their tone remained flat. “What’s _that_ have to do with anything?”

“Well, I don’t have a SOUL. Didn’t I tell you this already?” Flowey asked teasingly at first but then soon dulled into confusion as he blinked a few times, as though realizing, “Wait... _Did_ I tell you that already? I feel like I did.”

“You did.” They said curtly. “Cut to the chase.”

“Okay, okay!” Flowey agreed quickly with a bit of a flinch before hastily moving on, “As I said, I don’t have a SOUL and you, Chara—the SOUL you have isn’t really _yours_... But with that smiley bag of trash, he...”

Chara stood up abruptly and Flowey immediately went quiet. He shut his mouth tight, staring up with wide, wide eyes. With Chara’s eyes hidden by dark brown tresses, all Flowey could see was the displeased curl of their lips.

“Uh... Huh? C-Chara, is...is something wrong?”

“It’s around this time that Mom should be making her way here.” Chara dug the tip of their shoe into the ground, crushing the stem of one of the flowers. Flowey blinked up at them, and they went on, oh so calmly, “Asriel, I’m going to have to postpone this discussion until after I’ve killed everyone in these ruins. Surely you understand.”

“Oh.” Flowey laughed. “Sure. Knock yourself out, Chara. Hey, do you want me to help? Because it’s been a while since I—!”

“If you do that, can I kill you afterwards?” They asked, turning to him with a large, innocent gaze. Flowey froze up as Chara explained, “I need to make up for the EXP and LOVE I would have lost, after all. In fact, I might end up with more than I would otherwise. And, you know, Asriel... the best place to gain LOVE is, in fact, from friends and family. Right?”

“R...Right...” Flowey began trembling. “Y-Yes, that’s right...”

“And you’re my best friend,” Chara says, smiling down at him with warm affection that soon twists into something dark. “My dearest, dearest _brother_.”

“Chara... H-Hey...” Flowey was stammering. “Y-You know that I was just...just joking, r-right? I-I didn’t... I would never get in your way... I-If you don’t want any help, you won’t get it! I-if that’s what...you want... I won’t...”

Chara kept on smiling as he kept on babbling. Worthless promises and implicit pleas. And there, on the wretched flower’s face, was Asriel’s trembling smile. Their hand clenched into a fist before quickly relaxing—it’d be no good if Flowey noticed that.

“Oh Asriel,” they sigh, fondly and adoringly even as there was still that flicker of a twist at the edge of their smile. “I know. You’re the one I rely the most on, after all. I’d hate to hurt you when I don’t have to. It was...just a joke, you could say!”

“Y-You’ve... You’ve got one hell of a sense of humor, Chara...” But Flowey does try to laugh along, pathetically placating. “I... I’ll see you then. Okay?”

“Okay.”

And Flowey couldn’t have popped back into the ground fast enough, it seemed. With a hum, Chara began to grind their heel against more of the flowers in the small garden, crushing them under their foot with nothing short of contempt.

“...Sans actually has a SOUL, huh...” they repeated thoughtfully. Their fingers dug into their sweater against a heart with a quickened pulse. They almost could feel the thrumming of a SOUL—their SOUL— ** _their_** SOUL, although that could have been imagined.

* * *

Every time they get to Toriel, it’s laughably easy because she’s so eager.

She’s always so _eager_ to welcome them into her side, even as their chilled husk of a body leeches her warmth away. This time, Chara clings to her like any scared child would, and she croons sweet words of comfort as she strokes down their ruffled, knotty hair with her large paw.

“It’s alright, my child,” she says, softly and oh so carefully as though the words themselves were delicate little things. “I will protect you. There is no need to be afraid.”

Chara buried their face even deeper. Their shoulders heaved as they let out a high-pitched whine. She coos and holds them closer, nuzzling into their hair in spite of how filthy it must be. They wondered if she was thinking of her first human child—of the person who used to be _them_. She had no idea. She thought she buried that child. She did. They just...didn’t stay that way.

Chara could hear her heart pounding. Even that sound had a comforting quality to it. She had always been so warm, down to her soul. Her _SOUL_...

Their SOUL was stirring even though they couldn’t really feel anything. _Because..._

**_“...the SOUL you have isn’t really_ y o u r s _...”_**

Even though it was. It _was_. It may not have been originally, but it was _theirs_ **now**. It wasn’t even stolen anymore. It had been given to them like some trinket, like that locket Asriel gave them all those years ago. And, well—anyone _stupid_ enough to give their SOUL up didn’t deserve it anyway.

 _You understand that, don’t you?_ Chara thinks furiously as their lips twisted into a cruel, cruel smile as they clung to her hard enough to hurt. _Don’t you, **don’t** you—_

“There, there,” Toriel murmurs.

They choke on a laugh, and it’s easily mistaken for a sob.

* * *

“Sans.”

“Kid.”

Sans tilted his head with that usual grin of his. “Heya. Are you, uh, still angry about what happened? Because I kept my word—and I didn’t exactly lie, either. It’s, well, not my fault if you got the wrong idea.”

“Liar.” Chara says simply and sharply with a narrowed glare. “You’re really full of it sometimes, Sans.”

“Heh. Not really. I’m nothing but bones, you see.” Sans shuffled his feet where he stood. His grin widened just a smidgen. “But maybe it is at least partially my fault for not being clear. If I admit that, will it make you feel better?”

Chara did perk up at that, eyes brightening, smile twitching across their lips. “Maybe. Would you mean it?”

“Not really.” He repeated, bluntly and curtly. “It’s not really _my_ fault when _you_ should have known better, kid. So, let’s just get straight to the point again now that we’re here. Again. Because someone _really_ has too much time on their hands.”

They couldn’t help but snicker at that into their hand.

“I wouldn’t be so hasty.” They say matter-of-factly with a cheerful chirp. “After all, we have all the time in the world, Sans. We can take it _nice_ and _slow_. Wouldn’t you like that?” They pressed on, tone even sweeter, “Doesn’t that sound nice? I can be nice to you if you just let me be, Sans.”

Sans just leaned away. The motion was subtle, but they still picked up on it.

“Wow.” Sans exhaled, letting out a shaky laugh. “You couldn’t have picked a less _creepy as hell_ way to word that?”

“Hehe. Ehehe. I can be cruel too, if that’s more comforting.” Chara let out a sigh, despite that. “But, you know, the truth is... I’m really getting tired of that stupid smile of yours when I’m still angry with you, Sans. And if you refuse to feel bad—I’ll just have to _hurt_ you. But hey!”

They brightened right back up, with the brightest of smiles and laughs. “You know how some sayings go! Misery builds character! What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger! In some ways, I’m really just helping you!”

“Is that so?” Sans’s smile was unconvinced and unamused. “Did you know you’re _full of it_ , kid?”

“Rude.” Chara huffed, their smile twitching at its corners. “It’s your fault this is how things turn out. Because you’re stubborn—I have to make you see things my way when it should be so easy to understand. But it’s entertaining, I’ll give you that. Your defiance is endearing even as my patience wears thin.”

Sans chuckled lowly, shaking his head. “My patience is worn into the dirt, kiddo. Best to stop blathering and just get on with it.”

It went like so. Chara was definitely not going easy on him. Their motions were quicker, more fluid as they dodged, and while he could get in a couple lucky hits—there was an increasing number of times they were but a hair away from slicing him open and he was only barely, narrowly avoiding getting killed.

“Huh,” he muttered at one point, noting all the nicks peppering the front of his coat. Chara giggled at him, twirling their knife in their hand. Sans gripped the cut that ran the deepest through and across the left pocket. “You’re uh, really going for it. Welp. Better play it as seriously as possible then.”

These moments always went by flashes where the kid had to react fast. A well-timed jump or slide out of harm’s way. In those regards, the kid was doing a lot better. It was much easier to tell that they’ve _done this before_.

Sans’s grin twitched. He didn’t miss a step in avoiding the kid when they slashed at him, even as that blade seemed to get closer and closer.

It was only a matter of time. Just a matter of time before they got that hit in.

Bones sprang up to get the kid away from him, and instead they lurched forward that last needed inch to cut to the bone. It wasn’t as deep a gash as per usual—but the sting was quick to turn agonizing.

Sans, even as he managed to blink back several steps away, was left tightly gripping that gash as red began to seep, the stain spreading outwards more and more as his legs trembled.

“Well,” he says, and his grin is painfully strained as he stares down at the wound, and at the red straining his grip. “Jeez. Guess that’s that then.”

Except. In that next blink, that gash was gone like it never existed even as the memory burned. Sans’s breath caught, and he quickly snapped to attention towards the kid—but not quick enough to avoid them once again slicing him open.

This time, he toppled backward, and could only stare helplessly with widened, empty sockets as Chara smiled back down. And then he saw the world pause, and he saw everything blink back to black right before the timeline shifted.

And he was back on his feet, disoriented, painful memory disconnected from reality though not for long as the kid struck him down _again_.

“Again,” they chirp and the world shifts.

The next time, he immediately teleports back far enough that he can sidestep the kid’s next attack. They’re still oh so cheerful, grinning up at him with a malicious gleam in red-brown eyes.

“You’re slower,” they say with a bright laugh. “Is something holding you back, Sans?”

He’s still gripping where he’d been hit, even as there’s nothing there. Not even the nicks from the ‘initial’ fight. It still hurt—his memory still _insisted_ that it hurt.

“That look on your face...” The kid starts, breath hitching in glee. “You look like you’ve been thrown for a _loop_ , Sans!” They laughed hard at that. But they quickly regained theirself, smile wide as they tilted their head. “Of course, I understand what you’re going through. It’s difficult to regain your sense of being after you just felt yourself die. But it gets better.”

With that, they rushed after him again, avoiding his attacks as they did with a hum. Sans quickly threw out his hand, left eye flashing cyan and yellow, and there was that _DING_ before he threw their body into one of the pillars. And then another and another. Over and over even as the pain in his chest became insufferable.

He stopped with dropping their body onto the tiles. There was a sickening thud—but all he could focus on was grasping at the nothing where it hurt so badly.

Chara managed to push theirself up, however shakily as they chuckled. Sans was shaking, too, and gasping even though he shouldn’t have needed the air. Chara smiled up at him again, broadly and brightly, and began to get back on their feet.

“Sans,” they say, and their voice almost sounds sweet. “Sans, it’ll be okay. It gets better. It always hurts so much in the beginning. But once you get used to it, you start to appreciate it. After all, that pain is what reassures you that you are in fact _alive_ in spite of everything.”

Sans steps back, and takes a deep breath. He steadies himself, and glares back with nothing short of revulsion.

“Isn’t it a good thing I’m here to help you?” Chara asks, and there’s no denying the cheeky tone. “Oh, but what’s that look of yours saying? _Burn in hell_ , right?”

Sans just huffs.

“Hehe.” They couldn’t help but giggle into their hand. “It’s okay. I don’t really mind. After all, there’s no word for this accursed place other than hell. Let’s continue our dance of death, Sans. Shall we?”

* * *

With time, the pain could be ignored. But it didn’t change the fact that his fighting and dodging was significantly handicapped especially compared to the kid’s easy, sinuous motions. He still got some hits in. Some strikes with bones, some burns with the blasters, and maybe he resorted to throwing them around with blue magic more than he should have because he might have gotten a little too desperate in keeping the damn kid  _away from him_ .

“You look so tired, Sans,” Chara noted as he sidestepped another one of their slashes. “You’re slowing down again. I’m even going a little easier on you. That’s hardly an excuse to get lazy, Sans.”

And wasn’t that the most _infuriating_ thing?

Sans couldn’t help but respond with several blasters at once. Even though he hardly felt sated as the kid managed to stand their ground against the blast, hardly looking worse for wear than before.

“Why don’t you just lie down?” They ask almost casually. “You look like you need to.”

He glared back because that much was true.

Chara heard the _ding_ at the same time they felt his magic’s ice-cold grip on their soul, and he threw them once again into one of the windows. The glass once again cracked from impact, and shards may have gotten in their skin as they pushed theirself back up to avoid the bones springing up.

Sans threw them into the ceiling next. And then the other wall as well as another one of the windows. Rinse and repeat. Blood stained the cracked stained glass. Chara would have laughed at that if Sans hadn’t slammed their body into the tiles and knocked out a few teeth.

Still, Chara pushed theirself up all the same, and dodged the bones.

Blood speckled their fingers, and they noted the glimmer of a small piece of glass stuck in one of the cuts. It throbbed but they ignored it, quickly rushing after Sans to once again attempt slicing him open with the knife. He was quicker in dodging this time—but it still wasn’t up to his usual speed.

“You really should lie down, Sans.” They tell him as he dodges their knife, almost matter-of-factly. Louder, as the blade catches the edge of fabric, they say, “You look like you _need_ to.”

Sans’s left eye socket flashed with yellow as he once again threw them into one of the pillars. Again and again. Another set of repeated actions. It was starting to get old—but then, in Sans’s magic, they _felt_ something, something that burned so much brighter and so much hotter than ever before.

Desperation. Sans’s _desperation_. They had felt his emotions through his magic before—mostly anger, usually his anger with pure blue-hot fury, and then, when said magic started to waver, sheer _exhaustion_ —but not like this. Not this burning desperation when he usually only let that slip in brief flashes, with how cool he could be and how much of that calm, confident, carefree façade was pushed for both his own sake and to make it so much easier to frustrate the _hell_ out of them.

Despite that, there was always excitement in picking up how Sans _really_ felt—how raw and unadulterated those emotions were through his attacks. Like right now. _Especially_ now. They felt those emotions of his keen enough that it almost felt like said emotions were _theirs_.

Their SOUL wouldn’t stop stirring— ** _DETEMINATION_** pumped red and hot through their veins and Chara knew in a heartbeat that they just _had_ to kill him. Maybe later they could die to and for this guy but not now. _Definitely_ not.

Sans was desperate. But they were _determined_.

The result would have been obvious even without the countless times before. Even if they reset and killed him again and again and—

“Don’t you _ever_ get tired, freak?”

Sans really had a remarkable level of patience and tolerance. But even he had limits—and with all these constant kills and repeats—the effect it had was apparent, even without the scars.

Sans was already sweating, shaking even with the lights in his sockets seeming to flicker in and out of focus. Chara, steady and unmoved, only smiled as he took a deep breath and forced himself to still as much as he could. The sound of rattling bones still resounded across the corridor. They wonder if his teeth are chattering, too, but with how stiff that smile on his face is, it’s really hard to tell.

Well, it hardly matters. They’ll just kill him. Again.

“Again,” they say, and they avoid that first barrage of attacks that’s painfully expected from him. Even as said attacks are more erratic and desperate, and the festering magic in the air from constructing said attacks is pungent enough to be near palpable. It tastes like hopelessness and anguish.

It was almost enough to make them cry—certainly the magic in the air was hot enough to burn and make their eyes well up with tears. They wipe at their eyes—but they felt dry, didn’t they? _Didn’t they?_

“Again.”

Sans still dodges their knife—he can do so by heart even with his jerkier movements and even with how much his glare darkens every time their gazes unintentionally meet. They repeat, over and over, like they no longer know any other word.

“Again. Again. Again.”

 _No, no, no_ —that’s what it _feels_ like his magic is saying. Even as Sans just grits his teeth and attacks, attacks, attacks. He’s not going to kill them. Not this time. They’re going to kill him. Over and over again. And _again._

 _“ **Again**_!”

The blade digs into his sternum. Sans lets out a choked gasp, and red trickles from his shaking smile. For a moment, Chara is fixated both by the red and how the lights in his sockets seize up as though something invisible squeezed them.  Then, all too quickly, the lights in his sockets grow wide, as well does his broadening, painful grin. Sans looks so miserably tired.

“Again,” Chara whispers and Sans just shuts his eye sockets tight in resignation as they reset. He doesn’t even catch their next whisper as the world shifts, “Once more before...”

* * *

So the next time ends up surprising him.

They still fight, of course. They fight, they dodge, they smile and silently regard the other oh so carefully. But Sans eyes them more and more suspiciously as the fight drags on. His magic still reeks of that desperation. He’s still sweating and it’s clear just how nervous he really is.

When they manage to stab him, he only flinches before sighing. Red soaks through his coat in an expanding stain around their blade, and Chara only flickers their gaze between their knife and his face.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” Sans asks. He sounds so weary.

Then those eye sockets go wide as Chara brightly smiles up at him, and as they _shove_ him with enough strength to pin him down to the tiles. Like before.

But this time, with the injury slowly killing him, there’s not much he can do except lie there.

“Welp,” Sans grunts, and his grin strains visibly as the lights in his eye sockets flicker like panicking flames. “This, uh, doesn’t look promising. Kid, what exactly are you planning to...?”

He halts, breath hitching as the knife dug further into his ribcage.

“I’m curious about a few things. For example...” Chara pulled the knife out, just a little, and then slammed it right back in. There was a squelch mixed with the sound of bone crumbling. Both the blade and their dusty hand were caked in that strange, brilliant red. Chara blinked at it inquisitively as they asked, “What exactly _is_ this stuff, Sans? Is it really blood? Ketchup, perhaps?” With a hum, they mused, “It might be a mixture of both. Or something else entirely. Or a mixture of all three. Can you tell me, Sans?”

Sans doesn’t answer. If he was going to make any sort of noise, he’d like to scream first. At the same time, he’d rather not say anything at all and just lie there, letting the kid do whatever. The pain got worse, of course, when the blade met and sank into his spine, coat crumpling under the handle as Chara pushed it even deeper.

Saying—screaming, as he wanted to in this case, that it hurt like hell would...be a bit of an understatement. Probably. But he can’t help but wonder what the marks on the bones under his coat and shirt would look like.

His entire life he’s always been so cautious because he couldn’t have afforded a single mistake when anything could potentially spell the end. He couldn’t risk that, especially when he can’t imagine what it’d do to Papyrus. Or, for that matter, to anyone else who knew him and liked him well enough for whatever reason. He couldn’t risk it. For his brother’s sake as well as for the sakes of others.

Papyrus. Papyrus must have been so upset to have Sans dying in his arms. And from a botched effort to protect that Sans couldn’t have even been bothered to think through all too well. With that being upsetting enough on its own, Sans really wondered how Papyrus would react to _this_.

He’d be so upset.

_It’s not like it matters._

He’d definitely cry. He’d probably get on his knees if _need_ be to beg the kid to stop.

_He’s not even here anymore. Not in this timeline._

He might scream for Undyne. She’d definitely step in and do her damnedest to stop this kid from doing whatever _this_ was. Or would Papyrus just try to get the kid away himself and try to escape with him all on his own? Even like this, Papyrus wouldn’t kill them—at most, he’d incapacitate them.

_But even if he were here...it’d still reset, right?_

That wouldn’t be enough. Not for this kid. Could Papyrus ever go further than that if he had to? If it was to protect that pathetically weak brother of his? Ideally, he wouldn’t have to. Ideally, someone else would do the dirty work. Undyne certainly would. Ideally. Sans has learned never to rely on ideals. Even hoping could be so, so tiring...

_It’s all going to reset. This doesn’t matter either. Even though—_

“Oh!” Chara exclaims with surprise. The world above him is blurring and all he feels is a seeping, agonizing ache as he deteriorates. Still, the kid’s voice is clear in spite of all that. “It tastes a bit...spicy? It only smells like dust; I wasn’t expecting the taste...”

**_It still—_ **

They giggle, and then that knife is plunged into his sternum. Bone breaks—he can almost feel the dust sprinkling over his very soul. _His SOUL._ Weak and flittering and surely cracking and it should have shattered by now why hasn’t it shattered yet whywhy ** _why_** — _becausebecausebecause_ —

**_It hurtshurtshurts—_ **

Thin fingers wrap around one of his hands, squeezing it tight only to feel a mitten stuffed with dust. Chara simply sighs. And vaguely, only barely, he can tell they’re shaking their head.

“No, Sans,” they say. “You’re not allowed to die yet. I have to say, though, I am impressed that despite your meager health, you’re lasting quite long... And you’re not saying a word. Everyone else musters up at least a sentence. Guess it shows they really were wasting their last bit of breath, huh?”

_If he was going to make any sort of noise, he’d like to scream first._

“But all the same, it must really hurt, right? See, this is what happens when you upset me, Sans. As interesting as your pain is, I don’t revel in it, I assure you.”

The blade is digging through his ribcage again. It’s almost like they’re trying to saw those ribs off. They’re humming as they do so. One rib is cut off from the rest—and it feels like it crumbles into dust almost immediately. More dust sprinkling on his soul, he supposed. He thought of rain. He thought of somewhere else where it was raining.

“It really hurts, right? Sans, how badly do you want to scream?”

_So badly. So badly._

“Well. That look on your face... I have to say I’m...surprised...”

Chara hums thoughtfully.

“That’s the look of someone who...”

He thought of somewhere else where it was raining. Asgore talked about rain once, didn’t he? He mentioned how the rain would seep into the ground— _red seeps throughout, and the way the kid’s eyes glimmer is more red than brown_ —and then the plants would grow. Rain’s nurturing, he said. It could be so comforting, he said. The king’s smile was tinged with melancholy as per usual, but even more so at that moment.

Sans thinks of drowning and of panic. Of dying compared to growing—and how he can’t feel his limbs because they’ve surely crumbled to dust at this point. There’s dust in his skull and fluttering in the air above.

“...you want this to stop, don’t you?” Chara asks him curiously, leaning over him. For once, their face shifts into focus as everything else blurs.  “But you don’t want to _die_ , do you?”

Sans began to tremble. He thinks he did. He can’t feel anything except that _ache_ —except the blade scraping and cutting through bone, dyeing everything in red, red, _red_ —red like the kid’s eyes, like their knife, like that ribbon the lady had to tie in their hair that’s nowhere in sight now—like Undyne’s hair, like Papyrus’s scarf—Papyrus, Papyrus, **_Papyrus_** —

“No good,” Chara murmurs plainly.

The second his perpetual smile began to crack and fall to pieces was when everything shifted. And when he’s back on his feet in the corridor, not a scratch on him, he falls to his knees almost immediately. He can’t even push himself up because he can’t feel his arms either. He still can’t feel his limbs at _all_. It’s like they’re still dust. Still gone.

It still hurt. It still hurt so much that he couldn’t bear to _think_ —

“Sans,” they say, and he vaguely hears their steps as they skip across the tiles. He can’t even lift his head. He’s not sure he can move at all—not when it still hurt as much as it did. “Oh, Sans. You poor thing.”

Thin, dusty fingers press underneath his chin, and his skull is urged upwards so that his dulled, vacant stare can meet the kid’s own. Chara’s piteously smiling down at him. He feels a thumb run along the curve beneath his left eye socket and he shivers at the motion.

“It still hurts, doesn’t it?” the kid asks in a tone that could be considered kind. Somewhere where there isn’t just pain, he can’t help but feel sick, especially as they go on. “I was too careless. It slipped my mind just how fragile you really are, Sans. And yet you still fight me so hard, don’t you? You’ve still killed me more than anyone else, even without accounting for the deaths I allowed you.”

They let out a giggle, and their thumb once again strokes along that curve before urging upwards, ghosting along the edge of that socket.

“Tell me. What are you trying so hard for now? Is it just because you despise me? Is it just defiance? Or, is it possible Sans, that you don’t know what else to _do_ against me?” Chara’s grin widened. There’s no denying the smugness there. “We really aren’t so different. In some ways, we’re quite similar. I think that signifies the potential for a strong partnership. Don’t you think so?”

“I think...” he finds himself saying, somewhat to his own surprise even as he huffs, “I think you’re a _sadist_.”

“Well,” Chara replies with a laugh. “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility. There’s just something _so_ entertaining about fear. That’s why all comedy is derived from fear and displeasure. You surely understand that much, don’t you, _you would-be comedian_?”

Sans does laugh himself. It’s harsh. It hurts. He hates how it sounds.

“Let’s not pretend you’re any less **_messed up_** of a person, kid. You can explain and attempt to justify it all you want but at the end of the day, you’re still...” He shudders, because their thumb is now pressing hard against the inner rim of his eye socket. He still laughs it off, even as he trembles, “Y-You’re still just a sadistic _freak_.”

“I _told_ you.” Chara said calmly, but the underlying tone of dark—of **_threat_** —was something Sans couldn’t have missed even if half-asleep. “I’m not the messed up one here. Are you trying to make me angry, Sans? That’s rude. And ill-advised. I don’t need excuses to hurt you.”

“No, you certainly don’t.” Sans said with a low, low chuckle that sounded almost bored. “You just hurt because you want to, either out of curiosity or that aforementioned sadism. Like hell you need something like an _excuse_. So, uh, what are you waiting for, exactly? I’m, ah, still pretty helpless so you could...”

“I could behead you, like I always do with that brother of yours.” Their thumb inched ever so slightly more into his socket. He stiffened. Chara once again hummed thoughtfully with a tilt of their head. “But I don’t know if you’d last very long. Or if you’ll be that affected. Out of all the deaths I’ve seen over and over again, your brother’s was always so... _unremarkable_ , Sans...”

Sans averted his gaze in disgust. The lights in his sockets burned brightly—and Chara’s own gaze lit up with intrigue. A smile slipped across their lips as they hooked their thumb into his socket—and the way Sans _flinched_ , those sockets both going so, so wide, had Chara laughing as they pulled their hand back—and had the blade pointed right for the center of his left eye socket.

“Kid...” Sans breathed. “Kiddo... _Chara_...”

His tone was meant to sound warningly, they’re sure. But to their ears, it just sounded agitated. Distressed—with an unspoken, muffled plea hanging heavily in the air.

“It’s okay,” they tell him sweetly with a titter, “If you die from this, I’ll reset. All the way back to the start. It’ll be over. For just the moment, of course, but over nonetheless. Just one more bit of pain, Sans, and you’ll get a break. Isn’t that a relief?”

“You’re full of it,” he said, voice tight with a sharp, sharp edge, “You’re absolutely _full_ of it.”

“Just relax,” Chara croons to him. “It’ll be over before you know it. Okay? Okay?”

Sans trembled, lights little pinpricks as they zeroed in on the knife’s tip. His usual smile was noticeably twitching as if he was fighting to keep it up—or fighting back something else. Like a scream, or a plea, or just either word of _no_ or _don’t_. Chara recognized that look. It had them still, almost had their grip on the knife faltering.

Sans, upon noticing that, flickered his gaze upwards towards them. And, when they saw that there was, in fact, a bit of relief—a bit of hope— _well_.

They had to shove the blade immediately into his socket at _that_.

The sound Sans choked out was utterly indescribable. And maybe, just maybe, he was so badly rattled that his bones just grinded themselves to dust under Chara’s fingertips. Literally.

Chara stared at the dust caught on their curling fingers, some particles soaked with red. Then they looked at the rumpled, blue coat _coated i_ n dust. But not nearly as much of that red. Only the collar was sprinkled with the crimson undeterminable goop. It’s...an uninteresting sight.

Sans’s face before he died, though, with that knife lodged into his left eye socket—that was also just— _indescribable_.  It had their fingers twitching, their grips squeezing both the handle of the knife and that little bit of his dust hard enough to imprint patterns and particles into their skin.

Their soul was thrumming. The air was heavy with dust and stifled magic. Sans’s dust and stifled magic. To Chara, it almost felt...unpleasant. A wrong kind of unpleasant. An unpleasant sort of emptiness in both the corridor with Sans’s death and in theirself.

They...decidedly...didn’t like it.

* * *

Every time she dies, Chara can’t help but think that afterwards there’s a salty taste in the air accompanying all the dust. That and something sour—something bitter. They can’t help but think of a time where they assisted her baking, when they couldn’t help but sneak a bite of the chocolate she used and had been rebuffed by the unsweet, undoubtedly sugarless taste. She chided them with a gentle laugh. They were still huffy about it.

It wasn’t the first time they reminisced that particular moment, nor would it be the last, they’re sure. There are all sorts of memories they revisit with each repeated timeline. Sewing that sweater, receiving that locket, stories told at the dinner table, weeds cut from the garden— _oh, you’ve fallen down, haven’t you? Are you okay? What’s your name? Chara? My name is_ —

“Asriel.”

“Chara!” Flowey chirped, waving at them with one of his leaves. “You really took your time, didn’t you? You’ve been doing that a lot lately, come to think of it.”

“It doesn’t really matter.” They say as they step forward. In agreement, Flowey shakes his head with a hum and a giggle.

“No. Hehe. It doesn’t.”

“Asriel,” they say, and they stop right in front of him. “Let’s continue our conversation. About SOULs. About _Sans_.”

“Right, right. Right where we left off, right?”

“Right.”

Flowey giggled again. Chara just smile back and crouched down, wrapping their arms around their knees with a tilt of their head.

“Sans actually has a SOUL,” They repeated, and then asked, “How is this information significant?”

“Well, it should be obvious,” Flowey said, quirking a brow at them. “As lazy as that trash bag can get—as apathetic as he gets—it doesn’t change the fact that he’ll always be capable of feeling _more_ than that. You mentioned it before yourself. He...loves his brother very dearly.”

“Ah, yes.” They had said that, hadn’t they?

“He _cares_ about things, even if said things are few in number,” Flowey goes on. “It’s not much, admittedly, but it’s still something above what empty creatures like us are capable of.”

Chara’s arms tightened around their knees as they couldn’t help but laugh. “Is _that_ all it is?”

“As I said, it’s not much, but it’s still something,” Flowey said matter-of-factly. “It was certainly enough to cause me my fair share of resets. And it’s because he still has things he cares about that he’s fighting you even when it’s absolutely hopeless. This is part of what makes SOULs so invaluable—even if they also make a person so, so _stupid_. Not to mention stubborn even for someone considerably lacking in **_DETERMINATION_**.”

“Exactly what does Sans have though?” Chara asks, oh so cheerfully. “His brother, right? His...friends, I suppose? So many people are fond of him—and to an extent, Sans returns those feelings. Actually, it’s only with me that he’s downright repulsed.”

“Golly _gee_ , I wonder why that is,” Flowey muttered with a roll of his eyes before he couldn’t help but break into more giggles. Then, suddenly, he quieted with a sigh. “It’s really _only_ Papyrus he cares about. If you just kill Papyrus— _just_ him—smiley trash bag completely falls apart. And there’s no piecing him back together. I’ve seen people try—it’s a bunch of wasted effort on an already waste of space. Pretty sad, actually. And by that I mean pretty pathetic. Just how does someone like that get to be such a...”

“...thorn in your side?” Chara asks with a wide, wide grin. They can’t help but chortle as Flowey shot them an exasperated glare. “Hehehe. Apologies for the repeated joke. I really should _branch out_ more.”

Flowey groaned. “Ugh. Do you just want the smiley trash bag around so that _he_ can laugh at your jokes? Is _that_ why you’re interested in him, Chara?”

“Well,” they say with a shrug. “I won’t deny that it’s one of the reasons I’m fond. As I’ve said before, I quite like _his_ jokes.”

“Some things never change,” Flowey sighs. “I should have expected this.”

“Asriel, tell me... When it comes to Sans, what _do_ you expect?” Chara tilted their head, going on. “Do you think that I’ll succeed, as it were, in swaying him?”

Flowey paused, blinking at them a few times before answering, almost chirpily.

“Well... You’re determined to, right? Then that’s all there is to it. Either he’ll give in or give out. And then give in. Maybe. Either way, he doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

Chara hummed.

“All the same, it’ll be entertaining!” Flowey exclaimed cheerfully. So adorably. Chara’s smile twitched as he lit up. “I actually can’t wait to see how it turns out! If only that rubbish bag of bones wasn’t so frustratingly stubborn...”

“Yeah,” they can’t help but agree before echoing, distantly. “If only.”

* * *

His eye sockets finally snap open to stare at an all too familiar ceiling on an all too familiar bare mattress with that one spring digging into his spine. Sans springs up almost instantly to press his hand to his left socket with a hiss—because of  _course_ it still hurt like hell and of  _course_ the wretched discomfort of that pain lingered like a bad stench.

God he really—really **_hated_** that kid.

“Deep breaths,” he tells himself and does so. “Just breathe—just... B-Breathe... It didn’t happen. It reset—so it didn’t _really_ happen...”

Even though the effect remained. Even though the memory still burned in the back of his skull. Sans laughed, pitifully and desperately.

“It doesn’t matter... It reset so it _doesn’t matter_...”

There was a loud noise downstairs, making him flinch. It was just Papyrus was shouting. So he relaxed. It’s just Papyrus. Just his bro.

_Just Papyrus..._

“Sans, you lazybones!! Are you still _napping_?!”

God he wished. He’s so tired. He’s just so tired. His eye socket still hurts, but his hand against it began to slack. Then the pain flared up again, so he slapped his other hand over it with an agonized groan.

Papyrus’s footsteps thundered up the stairs. The door soon slammed against the wall upon being shoved open.

“ _Sans_!!” Then, Papyrus paused. It was like he stilled, breath briefly catching before he resumed, less louder than before. “...Sans... Are you alright?”

Sans laughed at that. It sounded just as wretched as he felt. He tried to resume deep breathes, willing himself to calm down, trying _way too hard_ to coax himself to just **_relax_** — _his magic’s starting to flare up, and that’s really_ **not** —

In his peripheral, a blurry hand reached out towards him, voice gentle and soft, “Sans...?”

Chara’s smile—Chara’s saccharine voice flashed in his mind along with their hand reaching out towards him. Sans immediately slapped that hand away and gave the most vicious, contemptuous of glares. Even with one eye covered, the effect was potent.

Papyrus flinched back as though he’d been severely scalded. Sans flinched too, as though there’d been some kind of recoil.

They stared at one another for what felt like a long, shaky while. Papyrus’s jaw clinked shut, but his bro looked no less painfully unsettled. _Jeez_ , and he thought his socket hurt. It still did— _agonizingly_ so, but...

“...Paps...” Sans managed, and he widened his grin a bit hysterically with a shaky laugh. “Eh...heheh... Uh, sorry... I didn’t... I wasn’t... Look, I... I’m _really_ sorry...?”

“I-It’s alright!! I... I already forgive you, Sans!!” Papyrus’s reply was quick and instant. He laughed too, but it was just as shaky. “But, _really_!! I... I’ve never seen you...look like that before...”

Sans winced but continued to just laugh it off. “Heh, _really_?”

_Of course not. Like **hell** I’d allow that normally._

“Really!” Papyrus parroted with a hand on his hip. He regarded Sans sternly, even with that undeniable undercurrent of worry. “Of course, I don’t expect you to tell me _why_ you had that expression or anything like that. Seeing as you never tell anyone anything.”

Sans just shrugged. It was as good of an answer as any. Papyrus did bristle but didn’t say anything more on the matter and just huffed. Then he let out a heavy sigh and resumed his usual bright smile.

“WELL! Seeing as you’re wide awake _now_ —let’s start the morning off proper! The morning spaghetti’s already ready and the day _awaits_! A-Although uh,” He rubbed at the back of his skull, suddenly sheepish. “Sans... You’re still holding your eye socket, brother... Does it hurt?”

Sans blinked dully back at him. His brother’s smile stiffened noticeably—at least more so than the usual stiff smile that both of them were prone to—and without any verbal response, Sans’s gaze flickered to Papyrus’s hand awkwardly hanging by his side. The fingers were still outstretched slightly towards him, with the barest hint of either a twitch or a tremble.

He looked back to Papyrus’s forced smile. He could see the edges in that expression—edges that clearly implied unease and distress. That expression looked like it ached.

Sans removed his hands from his eye socket, ignored said  socket’s involuntary twitch, and reached out to wrap his mitted hand around Papyrus’s hanging, gloved own. Just as Papyrus stilled—like even the slightest bit of movement on his part would break contact—Sans had pulled his hand up and rested his cheek into it.

“It doesn’t really hurt anymore,” he says, and doesn’t even flinch when in nuzzling against Papyrus’s hand, the socket in question was slightly brushed against. “I’ll be feeling fine again soon enough. That said I... I, uh...” He grinned up at his brother pleadingly. “I might need some time today. I have other things I really need to do.”

Papyrus’s stare narrowed, even as his hand settled against Sans’s cheek. “What kind of other things? If this is another dubious scheme of yours...”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s, uh, personal though. Personal errands. You understand, right?” Sans stiffened at feeling Papyrus’s thumb stroke the curve under his eye socket. He quickly relaxed back into an easy smile. “I’m sorry, bro. But this is really important.”

“Well, if you say so,” Papyrus says, even as he still looks a little unsure. “But! You should have breakfast first, of course!!”

“Of course.” That’s simple enough.

“And... Also!!”

“Yeah?”

“Sans.” Papyrus’s other hand rests itself on his shoulder as he tilted Sans’s skull in order to properly meet his gaze with the upmost sincerity he could muster. “You can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?”

Sans blinked back, and widened his grin as he repeated, “Yeah.”

Because it was only fair to answer a repeated question with a repeated answer, right? In the very least, it was easier.

* * *

Admittedly he’s tempted to go the entire timeline without confronting the kid once. He contemplates it while tinkering with the machine, longer than he’d care to admit. He wonders what would happen if he just stayed in the miniature lab the entire time even during a reset. Would he be affected? Would he still “wake up” on his mattress when the kid reset back to the start?

He’s curious, at least. And more than just a little tempted to test it out, just to see what happens.

Worst case scenario, he’s stuck in a timeline with no kid and all those deaths sticking. Maybe he’ll glitch himself out of existence. The latter didn’t sound too bad—but the former...

Sans knows he’s still going to confront the kid in the final corridor despite everything. He had to. When it came to the time to cast judgement, Sans wouldn’t miss it for the world. If he did, well, that’d be insultingly irresponsible even for a guy like him.

So yeah, he’s going to see that kid again. He doesn’t want to—but he will.

And, when the time does come, he does.

* * *

 

 _...But._ Like hell he’ll just overlook what happened.

“...That look on your face...”

The kid’s mouth forms a circle as they perk up with surprise. Then they laugh, ever so cheerfully and easily as his sockets just narrow.

“Hehehe. You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer. He refuses. All he does is glare with sharp pinpricks of light in his sockets and the rest of his expression dark. Chara does tilt their head in response to such a stare.

“Ah, huh? That’s the look of someone who has no interest in talking.” They laugh again, but there’s an edge to their voice. “Seriously? You’re going to give me the _silent treatment_?”

They take a step forward, then another.

“Well, that’s...quite irritating. But, you know, it’s also understandable. So I’m not really angry.” Chara forces that smile to widen into something grotesque. “You know what? I actually think I might have gone too far after all. So you can be as quiet as long as you want, Sans.”

_Alright then._

As always, Sans lashes out first. And throughout the entire fight, he doesn’t say a word to them. Even as Chara giggles, cajoles, and—

“You’ve returned to your usual speed! How nice! But, oh, Sans, you still look so exhausted.”

He kills them at least thrice.

He still wouldn’t talk even as their battle restarted over and over. When Chara managed to slice him open, Sans only shuddered. No gasp. No groan. His smile was still strained as he gripped his injury tight. But he just brushed past Chara without another word, and only spoke when...

“Papyrus... You want anything?”

Chara’s fists began to clench tight enough to hurt.

They restarted the fight soon after.

Sans acted no differently. If they didn’t know any better, they’d think he... Well. No. They do still see the wariness in the shadows under his gaze. They can’t help but laugh just a little more, said laughter soon increasing in pitch and fervor.

Sans never stopped looking at them as though they were the scum of the earth.

And that didn’t change in the next fight. Or the one after. Or one after that. Or even the next timeline and then the next and the next and the—they lost count, even if they weren’t really keeping track.

But it must have been over fifteen times they only heard Sans’s voice when he was asking that same, inane question to his dead brother.

* * *

For a while, he resumed retrieving Papyrus’s scarf each timeline when he could. Sometimes he’d return to the lab with it, sometimes he didn’t. But he always, always kept it on hand when able.

He liked to think of it as safe keeping in his brother’s absence. Like Papyrus was eventually going to return home from a long vacation—even though the kid’s run _hardly_ spanned days. Probably.

Maybe that’s how he should think of it. Like a vacation. People usually come back from vacations. They usually don’t come back from death.

It does make things easier in some ways, but no less...tiring in others. But, hey, a vacation really was the best way to describe it. Some people believed the afterlife was a real thing and that said afterlife was an alright place. Alright places were as good as any to vacation at.

If he could laugh, said laugh would be utterly mirthless.

* * *

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to suggest that his only real source of joy were the conversations with Papyrus at the start of each new timeline. It was only in those times that held any sense of normalcy to his life before the kid. Chumming around with Alphys on the timelines he went to bug her for parts wasn’t too bad either. But he felt guilty that the main reason he was so palsy-walsy with Alphys was due to the...circumstances.

It’s a shame too since he genuinely likes Alphys—never mind that she’s hardly special in that regard. It’s hard not to like every person he comes across in the Underground, even the more “troubling” ones.

But he does care for Alphys. Probably. She’s easy to care about. Like everyone else.

Except caring is starting to get...difficult. Repeating timelines that technically invalidate otherwise significant things like death and loss tend to also make a lot of other things...messy. Was that a good way to put it? Eh, whatever—it made sense to Sans.

Not a lot of things made sense nowadays. Maybe that’s because of how tired he is. And welp, in that case, there’s really nothing he can do but soldier on.

He knows he’s never going to get a good moment of rest ever again under these circumstances. Even though he’d like to. God, he’d really, really like to. He’s so tired.

He’s so, _so_ tired.

* * *

“Sans... A-Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Actually I’m more to the left.”

Even as he laughed, Alphys hardly looked reassured. If anything, her brow furrowed even more with worry. She fiddled with her claws, and Sans didn’t need to be half as good at reading expressions as he was to be able to tell she really wanted to press the matter further. She just...didn’t have the courage, he supposed. Really, Alphys had _such_ a bad case of nerves.

...It...got on his nerve a little. Metaphorically speaking. Even though it really didn’t. He understands why she’s like that. He tries so _hard_ to understand even when it’s difficult and beyond tiring. He’s so tired.

“Al, pal, it’s fine,” Sans says and gives his widest, goofiest grin. Alphys flinches, startled, and he just chuckles—somehow, it’s like the sound calmed her down a bit, so he goes on, “It’s uh, been more than a little difficult lately. But it’s really nothing to worry about.”

_Because it’ll reset anyway. It doesn’t really matter._

“B-But!” Alphys seemed to snap at that. “I-If you’re really troubled, Sans...!”

“Don’t **_w o r r y_** about it, Alphys.” The tone was firm, final and maybe harsh enough that the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. Light quickly flickered back into previously dark sockets, and Sans gave a grin that was in the very least apologetic. “It’ll make things easier on both of us if you don’t. Does that make any sense?”

“K...Kind of...” Alphys said, stiffly with an uncertain gleam reflecting off her glasses. “B-But, it’s... It’s _hard_ not to worry sometimes, Sans. S-Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sans says and it sounds like he means it. “That’s understandable too.”

Alphys looked like she didn’t know what to say to that. So Sans simply widened his grin and simply, albeit sloppily, changed the subject.

“So, uh, about some of these parts...”

* * *

He tries so hard to keep up a good, cheerful mood around Alphys. But when the kid appears on the screen, it’s like immediately everything twists into something ugly to the point it sickens him to retain the act. Especially with Alphys’s initial excitement—as uneasy as it sometimes is.

The very sight of the kid at the moment—especially when Alphys zooms in, _especially_ when she zooms in to get a better look at them—sickens him to his core. What’s worse is that they’re smiling as they usually do with cold, hard eyes. Said eyes are an equally hard shade of brown and the hint of red is only noticeable because of the close-up—and because Sans knows it’s there.

They do look...bothered about something. Sans could probably guess what if only he actually gave a damn. He didn’t. Not at all. Not at _all_.

Before he’s even thought twice, he’s blinked from inside the lab to outside the automatic doors. His hands are clenched into fists and he’s still shaking. His eye socket is burning so hot with magic that it burns with pains and _that_ worsens his mood severely. Teeth nearly grinding themselves to dust, he took a deep breath to calm himself.

“The machine. For the moment, I just have to focus on the machine,” he reminds himself. “It’s all I have against that kid—it’s... It’s all I’ve got.”

And Sans laughs, bitterly, as he repeats and pressed his hand tightly to his left eye socket as though that’d muffle the burning.

“It’s all I’ve got.”

He’s never really had much in the first place.

* * *

He doesn’t find Papyrus’s scarf this timeline. Undyne has it again. For the fourth, fifth, sixth time maybe?

He’s so tired. He’s so, so tired.

But, hey, at least it looks cool on her. It looks so cool. It looks so, so cool. Papyrus would certainly think so. Sans thinks so. It’s easy to see why so many people admire Undyne. Just the way Papyrus went on about her was more than enough for Sans to admire her as well.

That hasn’t changed. Especially when he’s sure that even now, Papyrus would fawn over how Undyne looked. She really did look...striking. He can only imagine how heroic she’d look with the human on the other side of her spear. And how vicious. She’d always been so _violent_.

Undyne is turned away as he looks after her. She stares overhead the cliff she’s standing from, and he wonders where the kid is. There’s a flash of neon cyan from her spear in her hand—and then just as quickly it fades away. A false warning, then.

At some point she’ll be on the move, stalking that kid like a predator. He should trail after her—after his brother’s red scarf, flapping in the howling wind. But at the same time he can’t really _stand_ being near Undyne. Not really. Not when she’s like this. Especially wearing Papyrus’s scarf.

It doesn’t really matter anyway. Not when he knows the kid won’t stay down—and especially not when the kid’s got resets under their belt.

For a second, he considers telling Undyne that. He wonders what that’d do; if it’d inspire her to stand even stronger against the kid—and if that’d change a damn thing. Probably not. But, hey, it’d most likely at least give the kid more of a hard time. It’s the _least_ he could do, right?

Even though, uh, he really _doesn’t_ like the idea of telling Undyne that. Because he’d have to approach her first and he’d have to match that dead serious mood of hers if he wanted to be taken seriously. Besides, since when has he told anybody anything?

It doesn’t matter. It’d just be about him getting back at the kid. And well, using Undyne like that— _even if,_ especially _when she’d hardly hold that against him on top of it all_ —would be really uncool. He’s better off just proceeding as per usual, even if he’s never really moving forward with the way things are.

Undyne’s always looking ahead, as Papyrus always was.

 ** _“And they don’t even see how it all just loops back to the beginning!”_** Chara exclaims to him so very cheerfully. Their arms wrap around his own and give a sharp tug as the kid continues to murmur to him like it’s all one big secret between the two of them, **_“They don’t know it’s just an endless cycle. Isn’t that sad? Isn’t it funny? There’s only one way to be free around here and it doesn’t even_ last _.”_**

Sans sighs heavily. They go on and on.

**_“They don’t really understand, do they? But we do. We know better. Why have hopes and dreams when what we’re living is nothing more than a constant, hopeless never-ending nightmare?”_ **

Their eyes were glowing a vivid red, and it stood out amongst all the shadows. Sans could try to avoid looking at them, but no matter what he did, that crimson glow remained blinding. The only thing brighter was their warped, pearly smile.

 ** _“Sans,”_** they say oh so sweetly as their hold on him tightens. **_“Sans, you do understand, right? There’s really nothing worth fighting for in a world like this. No matter what’ll happen—whether you make them happy or hurt—it’ll all be reset and no one else will remember anything. And with that in mind...”_**

It’s really hard to give it his all. But what _else_ is he supposed to do?

Chara gave him a knowing smile. Pain flared up in his left eye socket and he hurriedly pressed a hand against it, groaning.

“There’s no point,” he says and they laugh. He laughs too, verging on hysterical as he begins to rattle, “There’s seriously no point to trying _anything_ anymore. There’s no point—there’s just no **_point_** —”

They keep laughing and laughing and—

“... ** _SANS_**?!”

Sans snaps up.

“SANS, WHAT THE **_HELL_** —?!”

Undyne’s stalking towards him again, furiously and blazingly and so quickly that he wondered if he could even teleport away before she gets a grip onto him. He only wonders it—he doesn’t actually bother doing it. He just trembles, bones continuing to rattle, and his stare is stuck on his brother’s scarf.

With armor on, he can’t help but think Undyne and Papyrus wouldn’t look that different. If his brother ever joined the Royal Guard—that scarf would be the only thing Sans could use to pick him out.

He should laugh. He wants to. He doesn’t. The kid would though, he wonders why he can’t hear them laughing now—oh. Right. They’re not _actually_ —

“WHAT ARE YOU **_DOING_** HERE?!” Undyne lurches towards him, almost like she’s expecting him to run or disappear off somewhere. But her expression remains primarily infuriated as she continues to shout, “WHY HAVEN’T YOU EVACUATED WITH EVERYONE ELSE YET?! Did you not HEAR?!”

Her hands land hard enough on his shoulders to hurt and the way she squeezes them is almost bone-crushing. Sans just puts his hands up helplessly like he’s preparing for arrest. His grin’s strained, but his returning stare is blearily flickering between Undyne’s fierce gaze and Papyrus’s scarf. Both were too bright to look at for long.

“Papyrus said you’d be in Hotland.” She says it like she’s accusing him. He shrugs. Undyne goes on. “You’re _supposed_ to be back in Hotland with everyone else. What the **_HELL_** , Sans, did you not _hear_ about the human?!”

Sans shrugs again. Undyne seethes and she shakes him hard. “ARE YOU EVEN **_LISTENING_**?!”

Sans takes her wrist. He meets her glare evenly, with dull, tired, lightless sockets.

“I hear ya loud and clear, ‘dyne.”

 _I’m just a little **shaken**._ But he doesn’t say it. It refuses—and his grin twists into something bitter. Undyne’s gaze, from what he can tell, shifts as well. Some of that fire has faded. Then she makes a sharp ‘tch’ sound. He can almost hear how her lip curls.

“Good _lord_. And I thought Papyrus was a real bonehead.”

There’s an extra bite to that statement. He just looks down in response, grin now visibly rueful. Undyne’s hands on his shoulders have lessened their harsh grip. Then they pull away completely. There’s awkwardness in the following silence, and then there’s something rustling.

He immediately flinched at the sudden warmth of brilliant red fabric as it was wrapped around his neck. It smelled like fish and bones. Undyne is grumbling at him that, “Look, Sans, I don’t understand how the hell you didn’t get the memo—but you really shouldn’t _be_ here. It’s way too dangerous, especially for someone like you. Papyrus, he...”

She trails off, and tightens her grip on the fabric of the scarf. But she takes a deep breath, and continues wrapping it around him a few more times to make sure it was taut.

“I’m sorry.” Undyne says, mournful and ashamed. Her grip loosens to something gentle, something that was clearly meant to be consoling even as she for once wavered. “The human, they... And I _told_ him to stay away from them... But... He... They just... And I was too late.”

Instead of raising, her voice gets softer and softer as it crinkles with anger. She’s scowling, though at what in particular, he’s not sure. It could be at the human—and it could be at herself. Still, she shakes her head. Focuses back on him.

“You have to get back to Hotland. You _have_ to join the other refugees. _Listen_ to me, Sans—!” She takes his shoulders again. No-nonsense. Dead serious. “I’ll be damned if that thing kills you too. For Papyrus’s sake, you’re going to take this seriously. Do you **_UNDERSTAND_** me?”

There’s nothing to say to that. There’s nothing at all he can say to someone when they’re like this. He doesn’t trust himself enough to say anything.

Undyne gives him a firm shake in irritation. It doesn’t at all hurt like before. Then, taking another deep breath, she released him, keeping her clenching fists by her side.

“I’ll buy you as much time to get to safety as I can. If you waste it, I’m kicking your ass. Do you _understand_ me?”

Still no answer.

“Sans...” She gives him a firm look over. He ducks his head into the scarf as much as he can, and slowly, his hands raise to grip the fabric as though to ascertain its presence wrapped around him. Undyne just sighs—and it almost sounds like relief. She probably worried for a moment he had gone catatonic. “Sans, are you even listening?”

He does nod.

“Good.” She pulls back, but thoughtlessly squeezes his shoulder one last time before she does. “So you’re going to call Al—Doctor Alphys. She’ll tell you the rest and where to go. Understand?”

**_“Sans, you do understand, right?”_ **

“Yeah, I got’cha,” Sans says, waving his hand like it’d dissipate that other voice. He’s grinning up at her, even as his smile strains. “Geez though, I’m not a kid, _cap’n_.”

“No, you’re just the most unreliable sentry I’ve ever met,” Undyne retorted in open irritation. “Not to mention the guy I have to be the _most_ careful with, unfortunately.”

The blunt carelessness of that statement has him wince. He quickly laughs it off, and then, ducking his skull back into the scarf, he responds, “I’ll be seeing you around, Captain Undyne.”

Without hesitation, Undyne nods in return and he can tell she grins, even if it’s not as wide as her usual grin. Then, with a sweep of her hand, she lightly smacks his shoulder.

“Be safe, Sans.” It sounds like an order, even with that gentle tone of voice. For a moment, it’s almost like the two of them are pals. His shoulder stings, but he just smiles back at her, grips the scarf, and that’s enough for her to be satisfied. And so Sans watches as Undyne turns heel and disappears into the shadows.

The wind keeps on howling, and his grip on his brother’s scarf tightens. It smells like fish, bones, and strenuous stubbornness. It’s utterly— _uncomfortable_ , but he’s not like he has the heart to unwind it.

“She really is cool, isn’t she?” he asks, muffling his voice against the fabric. “I can see why you like her so much, bro.”

He nuzzles into the scarf with a sigh.

“But man, isn’t it a shame? She’s not going to stop that kid in their tracks. I’m still going to have to meet up with them in the corridor; I’m still going to have to...” Sans trails off into murmuring apologies into the fabric as though it’d make a difference. It didn’t, not really—but after a while, he was able to say, “I hate that kid. I hate this. I hate it all so much that I can’t even laugh it off anymore. I really—I really just hate what my life’s become, Paps. I don’t want to _live_ like this.”

But.

“...But. It’s not like I have a choice, right...? Papyrus..?”

 ** _“There’s a choice,”_** Chara insists.


	9. Gooey, Drippy, Sentimental Labryrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long has it been? How many resets? How long ago was yesterday?
> 
> Sans doesn't know, Sans has lost count, and...well, about yesterday... Yesterday doesn't really matter, does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ""mini-arc"" is kicking my ass, oh my god. I had to mess with this chapter for so long to the point that I'm just sick of it. And it ended up being COMPARATIVELY short too. Dang. Making Sans struggle is a struggle.
> 
> At least under these circumstances. :T
> 
> For what it's worth, a good chunk cut from this chapter is gonna be saved for the one after this.
> 
> That so many people are still reading this (with how absurdly long it is) still astounds me to no end, like wow.

_“If a human ever comes through this door... Could you please, please promise something? Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”_

* * *

“Five, six, nine...”

“SANS, YOU LAZYBONES!! ARE YOU STILL NAPPING?!”

“...ten...twelve...fifteen...seventeen...?”

“Sans!!” He perked up from his counting at both the shout of his name and the slam of the door against the wall. “So you’re up after all!”

“...yeah...” He nods, smile twitching at the edges along with his fingers. “I guess I am.”

“That’s actually...odd.” Quieter, Papyrus asks, “Did you have a difficult night, Sans?”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t even remember last night.”

Did he remember anything from yesterday? God how far away _was_ yesterday in his memories?

_Nineteen, twenty—thirty, fifty, **seventy** —_

“Perhaps...” Papyrus says. He perks up again. “You also felt the feeling that I had?”

“God,” Sans says, and he laughs like everything hurts. “God, I _hope_ not.”

Papyrus flinches, and then, “Sans... Are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer. Papyrus sighs.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there? And... You’re...”

“‘...not going to tell me anything.’” Sans finishes. He matches the tone beat for beat with only the most impeccable impression of the delivery his brother was oh so prone to. Papyrus blinks in surprise, stiff grin straining terribly. After a while, Sans’s head hangs low. “...‘m sorry, bro.”

“...Sans...” Papyrus straightened himself up, regaining himself and asserting, “Y-You can tell me anything! You...know that, don’t you?”

“...Yeah.”

He knows. Of course he knows. _It’s just—_

Papyrus takes a few steps towards him. Papyrus hesitates a few times, but ultimately wraps his arms around and hoists Sans into the air to take him downstairs. It’s like carrying an oversized rag doll, but Papyrus treats him as though he were fragile. To be fair, he is.

He’s fragile. He’s weak. He really, _really_ isn’t meant for this kind of stress. No one is. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Not even on his worst enemy—even as they already suffer from it. That twisted kid. That _poor_ kid.

_God, those poor kids._

But, it’s not like he’s going to feel bad for long. Feeling bad for them is just too— _exhausting_. Feeling in general in spite of everything is exhausting.

Papyrus’s grip on him should be comforting. It should be relaxing in spite of everything being exhausting. Papyrus is just _so_ worried about him though—holding onto his weaker, littler brother as though he’d break otherwise. It should have been comforting. It should be relaxing.

It’s exasperating.

It’s...

**_“Tiring?”_** they ask, peering up at him as they trailed behind Papyrus with wide, red-brown eyes.

It’s so _tiring_.

* * *

“Aren’t you tired?” Chara asks, and all he focuses on is the crimson gleam of the knife. How it contrasts against the golden light—

**_“Aren’t you tired?”_** they ask. Suddenly it’s all in shadow.

He’s so tired. He’s just so tired.

* * *

“That’s the third time you have nearly drifted off, my friend. Are you sure you are alright?”

“More half-right, actually,” he laughs a bit at the lame joke as he adjusts the way he’s seated against the door. His posture straightens for but a moment but he’s right back to hunching over in record time. “Sorry ‘bout this.”

“Oh, there is no need to apologize! It cannot be helped if you are just— _bone-tired_.”

Even though she said that in such a serious tone, he couldn’t help but laugh even harder than he would have otherwise. He really can’t help it. It’d be the same with Papyrus—though his expression was part of the humor, there.

He doesn’t really need to see her face. Her voice conveys more than enough.

“It is a bit of my own fault though,” he says, even as he continues to snicker. “I’m kind of a _bonehead_.”

She snorts. “Oh, do not say such things. I will not have you being hard on yourself in these times, my friend.”

“Eh, well,” He shrugs. He’s sure she can hear it in his tone. “Times are a bit rough. But I’m managing, at least.”

“That is, at least, good to hear.” A pause, and then, “If you ever need an ear, I am here as always.”

_“Sans, you can tell me anything. You know that, don’t you?”_

_“I-If you’re really troubled, Sans...!”_

There are two other doors in front of him. Unlike the door he has his back to; they’d probably open up if he just bothered to knock. In the very least, he’d get a response. He’s sure of that much. And if all he needs is a response, any one of the three would do, right?

Each had their pros and each had their cons. He could weigh them—he could determine which one would be the best to go for first. What a cold way of looking at things.

Any of the three would do. He just has to make a decision.

He’d rather just stay where he was. He’d rather just stay quiet. He’d rather do nothing.

* * *

“ _Oh_!”

Chara immediately perked up in interest as they took those next few steps until they faced against Sans in that fateful final corridor. It would have caught their eye sooner—it should have caught their eye sooner—but they’d been distracted as of late. It’d been...difficult to focus on things these past few timelines with Sans being so quiet.

He’s still quiet. But the red scarf wrapped around his neck is as eye-catching as ever. In the golden light, too, it almost looked as though it were glowing, almost brilliant—almost more brilliant that the red that’d get everywhere once they sliced him open. It stood out. It stood out spectacularly.

On Sans, it stood out overwhelmingly. And he looked so tired. He looked just so _exhausted_.

“Well,” Chara says, stopping briefly to really just take the sight in. “This is...something. Sans, I usually don’t if ever see you wearing that. It doesn’t suit you—it’s too much. Far too much.”

Sans doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even shrug. He just stares, with lightless, narrowing sockets.

Chara’s smile twitched with irritation but they carried on oh so cheerfully, “I usually see just the fabric peeking from your pockets. I always figured you were too lazy to put it on or maybe it just didn’t feel right on you? It’s an interesting sight, I admit—but that much red doesn’t suit you, Sans.”

Still no response. Not a verbal one, anyway. Sans might have sighed into the scarf. Maybe.

“It’s strange—but it’s not like I don’t understand.” Chara fiddled with the locket around their neck, _right where it belonged,_ smile twitching and twisting. “It’s just... I don’t expect this from you. Maybe... Maybe you just wanted to see how it’d feel? Like, perhaps, it’d feel like your brother was still _with you_ at least in spirit? But thing is...”

They took a step forward. And another. Sans maintained that same expression as well as his ground, even as Chara felt the air around them get chillier and chillier.

For a second, they almost saw a flash of Papyrus, offering his arms towards them as snow and ice blanketed the world around them and as the wind blew back towards them, biting at their skin and buzzing in their ringing ears.

Right now, it was utterly silent outside save for a heartbeat and a few soft breaths before,

“It really doesn’t mean that much when you’re going to see him again and relatively _soon_ at that. You haven’t truly _lost_ anything, really. Once I reset, everything you had before will be back as though it never left.” With a choked out laugh, Chara gripped their locket tight and, “Isn’t that funny? Isn’t that nice? It’s impossible to truly lose anything in a world like this.”

“That’s not—”

Sans immediately stopped when Chara’s head snapped up, wide red-brown eyes alit and bright.

“What?” they asked, and then their voice rose to a near hysterical level, cracking with laughter, “ _What_?! What were you about to _say_ to me, Sans?!”

Sans really looked like he was about to answer. Chara’s sure their heart leapt—their soul stirred too and rather than aggravating, it was _exhilarating_. Then, like how you always fall when you jump, Sans ducked back into that scarf and smoothed his expression back into silent aloofness.

He shook his head, and shrugged. Chara got the message even without a word.

**_“There’s nothing to say to someone like you.”_ **

Chara’s rosy smile pulled downwards. Everything about them seemed to wilt as they gave that locket one last squeeze. Then, they choked out another laugh.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Their voice was soft, almost wavering, but it was still a question that hardly needed an answer. Especially as they went on, “Your brother’s not gone. Not permanently. Not in a world like this. Never in a world like this. Tell me, Sans... What’s the point of holding onto it then? Isn’t that just so...unnecessary? Pragmatically speaking, you should only hold onto the things you _can_ lose.”

Sans, of course, doesn’t tell them anything. He just grips their SOUL with a _DING_ , raises their body a few feet in the air, then—

“Yeah,” Chara laughs, bitterly and almost piteously, “I expected as much.”

Their body is smashed into the tiles with enough force to dye everything in their sight with red and black. The red of that scarf and the black of Sans’s void, lightless sockets.

* * *

“Howdy, trash!”

Sans doesn’t finch, but he does glance back at the front door. Papyrus is still in the kitchen and it’s early enough that no one else is really out and about.

“We need to talk,” Flowey says with a smile that makes Sans think of the word _sunny_. The description would either give the flower too much or too little credit.

Sans wonders which it would be.

“You got any time, trash bag?” Then Flowey laughs, cheerfully cruel. “Oh, what am I saying—of _course_ you do.”

“I’ll say,” Sans mutters drearily with his equivalent of a half-lidded stare. “So uh, do you just want to talk right here on the front porch, kid?”

“Don’t call me that.” Flowey snapped immediately but just as quickly brightened his smile with a giggle. “And of course not, silly! I’d like for our discussion to be...somewhere a bit more private. Somewhere no one else would _hear_. That sound alright to you?”

“It actually sounds more than a little suspicious. But I’m alright with that.” Sans shuffled his hands into his pockets, leaning a bit more forward. “Lead the way, buttercup.”

“Call me _that_ again and I’ll wring your neck,” Flowey hissed, but popped back in the ground only to spring back up several paces away. He gestured with one of his leaves for him to follow and Sans did.

* * *

He vaguely knew this part of the forest Flowey was leading him through. But he did, however, recognize some of the mars in the trees because he knows the imprint of bones all too well. He whistles, and can’t help but speak up,

“You seem familiar with this route...”

“If you’re fishing for information, you might as well just ask directly.” Flowey huffed, barely giving him a glance back. “I’m really, _really_ not in the mood for you to just beat around the bush when you want to know something.”

“It’s just an innocuous comment,” Sans says with a light chuckle. “Although it’s not like I don’t understand. You’re just, uh, _garden_ yourself, I suppose.”

Flowey halted. And then he stared back in nothing short of disgust.

“That was terrible. Stick to your stupid skeleton jokes.”

“Yeah, not one of my better ones,” Sans agreed. Flowey simply popped back into the ground and just popped back up several steps away, resuming focus on leading. Sans quickened his step just a bit after him, even as he maintained a fairly leisure stroll. “But, it was _somewhat_ creative though. At least throw me a _bone_ here, buddy.”

Sans sidestepped one of the vines springing up from the ground in response. Flowey didn’t say anything more and just kept going on ahead, but it was pretty clear he was seething with irritation.

“We’re almost there,” Flowey said sharply and matter-of-factly. “So shut _up_ until then.”

“Mm.” Sans nodded and then, “ _Vine_ then.”

As if on command, several vines sprang up at once with enough force to make the very ground shake. Sans steadied himself quickly with a grunt. He did still notice, even amidst the shaking, that there was something else underneath his feet.

Any more vines that sprout from around his feet—likely to wrap around his ankles—were immediately impaled with bones. The vines stopped, the ground stilled, and Flowey let out a high-pitched, hateful laugh.

“It’d be really stupid of you to keep testing my patience, trash bag.”

The surrounding vines curled—Sans thought of either a fence or bars, like the too spaced out bars his brother made. Slinking towards him, the bright yellow standing out with stark contrast against the dark, dark green vines, Flowey was giving him a smile that was nothing if not jagged with beady little eyes that were almost piercing in their stare.

“Do you seriously think I’ll just _take it_?”

Sans hardly blinked differently, grin unchanged. “They’re just harmless puns, buddy. No need to get so twisted up about ‘em.”

“It’s not just the puns!” Flowey hissed. “It’s _you_! Your infuriating attitude! Here I am, actually being generous and **_you’re_** being—”

“Me?” Sans asked. It was both a question and an answer. Flowey didn’t respond at first, only silently seethed, and then began to draw back as Sans went on, “If it’s really that big of a deal, then I guess I can stop. You could have at least said _please_ or something though, bud.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Flowey sighs almost drearily, with vines rising as though he were shrugging. “You manage to be frustrating in some fashion in every timeline, even when I already know what to expect. Compared to Papyrus, you’re someone I just really _can’t stand_. Like, golly! You piss me off so much for a _lazy_ , **worthless** , **_g a r b a g e_** bag of bones!”

“Well, I don’t try,” Sans says with a shrug of his own before he rubbed almost sheepishly at the back of his skull. “So, uh, I really don’t know what to tell ya.”

“Well you’re not really talking to Chara either, are you?” Flowey asked, almost casually. Even as the vines started receding, it felt like they were closing in. Almost like Sans was in the palm of a metaphorical hand, even as he remained still and outwardly unperturbed. Flowey let out an exaggeratedly heavy, wistful groan. “I wish I knew what they did to get you like that—do you have any idea just how many timelines I wanted you to _shut up_? This one included, of course.”

Sans took a step forward, and then another.

“Really? You don’t know?” He sounded doubtful. There was a tug at the edge of his grin. “C’mon—how many times have _you_ reset? You can do that, too, right?”

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” Flowey sneered, though he did withdraw a bit more as Sans’s approach drew closer. “You... Gosh, friend, you should already know the answer to that.”

“Not to number of the resets.” Sans’s tone is matter-of-fact and colder than the temperature around them. “How many were yours? How many were theirs? How many were both? I haven’t a clue about _that_.”

Flowey snorted. A vine patted Sans’s shoulder and then gave him a not too gentle shove forward.

“Not here,” Flowey said, lightly and dully. “I didn’t want us talking here in the middle of some pathway like a pair of idiots. So get back to _moving_ , trash bag.”

Sans is pushed again, and he stumbles. He regains his balance soon enough, and then brushes off his shoulder with an unimpressed huff. All the same, he walks, following the flower’s lead and keeping his hands shoved deep into his coat’s pockets all the while.

* * *

They got to a secluded clearing. If he had ever been to this part of the forest, he must’ve forgotten all about it. Despite that, his soul pulsed with familiarity—and as Flowey popped up in the center of it all, he saw a flash of Papyrus standing before him, knelt down with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Sans sighed and took a few more steps inward.

“This is pretty far from where anyone else tends to hang around,” he noted as he looked about. “I bet even if you yelled no one would hear you. Well...”

Sans shrugged and then, “We didn’t have to go this far out into the middle of nowhere. I mean, yelling takes a lot of energy and I would’ve burnt it from the walk regardless.”

Flowey giggled. It sounded light and good-natured. Sans thought of other flowers blooming, of birds singing. He also, inevitably, thought of Chara.

His socket throbbed with that thought—and his smile twisted as he averted his gaze from the little golden flower.

“I get the feeling, though, that you actually _did_ want to talk.” He shuffles a bit, looking towards the ceiling between him and the sky. He wondered if it’d be bright on the surface right about now. “Is there a reason you picked this place in particular?”

“I took you here out of habit,” Flowey said brightly, giggling like that was a silly question to ask. “Don’t look so deeply into it, trash bag. We wouldn’t want you overexerting yourself further by _thinking too much_ , would we?”

“I suspected as much.” Sans’s tone was once again curt and cold.

Flowey shivered because of _the_ cold.

“So what’s on your mind right now, then?” Flowey asks conversationally. “Are you thinking about how I’ve probably killed your brother here before? In this place where even _he_ wouldn’t be heard if he screamed?” That smile grew more fanged, words dripping like black poison. “Because let me tell you, _pal_... The face you made then upon discovering his remains had to be the most hilarious thing I’d ever seen from you by **_far_**.”

“I can’t imagine it being too interesting after the fifth or sixth time though,” Sans responded, still looking upwards with the dullest expression. “Hell, you probably got bored of that sooner. Killing my bro must be so easy for you two and there’s no excitement in _that_ , now is there? Especially when you already know how people are going to react.”

“That’s... Huh.” Flowey blinked, smile twitching. “That’s a really cold way of putting it...”

Sans chuckled at that. He didn’t actually sound amused.

“So, uh, buddy.” He finally turned back to facing him directly. His grin was wide, and the lights in his sockets were a little too wide and a little too bright. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I already told you what I wanted to talk about. We were going to talk about _you_ —or rather how you’re not talking,” Flowey immediately clarified, “To Chara, I mean. They’re quite frustrated about that.”

“Aw, really? It’s a shame I don’t care.” Sans’s smile widened, sockets shutting to give off a seemingly cheerful smile before it relaxed into his usual lazy grin. “There’s definitely more to it, right? That’s a real _curious_ expression you got there.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong,” Flowey said, waving him off with a leaf. “It’s certainly not because I care about you in particular—and I’ve stopped bothering to question Chara’s interest in you. But I figure I might as well ask what exactly is on your mind. And what, exactly, do you plan to do?”

“Oh,” Sans exhaled. “So you’ll have a better idea on how things are gonna pro- _seed_ from here on out?”

Flowey twitched but took a deep breath and kept on smiling lightly, even as he responded in a harsher, darkening voice.

“You don’t have any _real_ plan, do you? You have no idea what you’re supposed to do besides give up, huh? Hehe. Hee. Golly, friend, did you really think you could keep that from me with that lame attempt at humor?”

“Fir what it’s worth,” Sans said as he simply shrugged, “I thought it was a pretty admirable effort, especially coming from a lazybones like me.”

“Of _course_ you did,” Flowey hissed, unsurprised. Sans’s smile quirked just a bit before he went on. “But, as I said, all you’re really doing is just delaying things. And it’s testing my good patience.”

Sans chuckles, and then responded, in the simplest tone, “Look. There isn’t anything else to say besides the obvious. The situation is terrible and I wish I wasn’t in it. There’s nothing more to it.”

Flowey just laughed, voice and smile full of mockery and malice. “Liar. Shouldn’t you also be saying something like how it all feels like one bad joke? As though one bad joke wasn’t all you already were before? Something like that?”

“Well, it’s unnecessary to say, isn’t it?” Sans asks, simply and casually. He shrugs, too. “You, uh, seem to know that already, so like...”

“How well _are_ you holding up, Sans?” Flowey’s question cut him off, and the flower had one of those friendly, sunny smiles again. “Keeping up with Chara is so— _exhausting_ , isn’t it? But at least it’s _interesting_ , not that you’d appreciate that. But it’d be so much more interesting if you stopped dragging your feet. Then again, you’ve always been just so good at holding people back, haven’t you? Your brother’s a _prime_ example of that, isn’t he?”

Sans blinked back, perking up even as his smile didn’t change.

“We both know Papyrus could do so much better if he didn’t have you to take care of and worry about. It’s a shame too, since Papyrus has just so much potential.” Flowey sighs for effect. One of those vines draped itself around Sans’s shoulders, almost like they really were buddies for that moment. Flowey went on, “He’s always been such a good go-getter and is really strong too! He’s a lot of fun. Really, Papyrus is the perfect toy!”

Sans’s smile tightened at the same time that vine also tightened around his shoulders.

“You know maybe it’s not so bad Chara picked you,” Flowey says with a soft murmur. He’s a little too close for comfort, and another vine curls around his arm, giving a mockingly gentle squeeze. “If they wanted to break Papyrus, I might have been a little sad about that. I really could care less if anything happened to _you_. And, hell, things might even get _more_ interesting without you around holding everything and everyone back.” A third vine pokes him between his eye sockets. He ends up recoiling from that though the vine around his shoulders kept him from going too far. Flowey looked positively delighted as he said, oh so sweetly and matter-of-factly, “You really _are_ the weakest one around here, aren’t you, Sans?”

That third vine retreats, as does the one around his arm, and Flowey giggles into one of the other vines with undoubtedly childish glee. Then that cheerful smile drops as his eyes narrow with clear disdain.

“Your weaknesses have made everyone so much _gentler_ , haven’t they? Everyone just haaaas to be careful around the weakling who’d crumble to dust at any moment’s notice when things get a little rough. Papyrus, especially. He has to be just so _careful_ when it comes to caring for his fragile brother—because one mistake and _whoosh_!” A vine gave a wide, sweeping motion in the air. Flowey grinned at him, all saccharine innocence. “You’d be nothing more than dust in the wind and crumpled rags on the ground. And what monster could live with _that_ on their hands?”

Patronizingly, Flowey flicked his forehead with a hum. Sans’s expression hadn’t changed a bit—but there was something dark about how the lights in his sockets stared ever brightly back.

“It’s pretty stupid really,” Flowey says with another sigh. “In the overall world, it’s kill or be killed. But monsters are such delicate creatures, aren’t they? They’re so desperate to cling onto one another even the person they’re clinging to is such a _burden_ on them. And you know, you take advantage of that too, don’t you?”

Another flick.

“Because... You put on that sickening act that _makes_ everyone like you.”

That vine tightens even more around his shoulders. It really starts to hurt, though Sans didn’t let that show.

Sans just laughs as Flowey’s smile twists even further.

“Wow,” Sans says, chuckling all the while with that sickening pitying smile, “Man, and I thought _I_ was cynical. Do you, uh, _really_ feel like that way? That’s pretty worrying if you do.”

Flowey sneered but answered in the briskest tone before withdrawing. “I don’t feel _anything_. Golly, Sans, you should have realized that by now—or at least...”

“Chara told me something like that,” Sans said, making Flowey briefly pause. “But there might’ve been more to it, so...”

“What kind of stupid concern is that?” Flowey snapped at him irritably. “What else _would_ there be? I don’t feel anything at **_all_**. End of story.”

“Well, I’m just saying,” Sans just shrugs. “For someone who doesn’t feel anything—you’re awfully expressive.”

Flowey flinched, said expression darkening into something seriously unimpressed. With a harsh shove against his chest, Flowey lashed out with gritted teeth, “Is that supposed to be a _joke_ , trash bag? Are you trying to be funny? If you’re implying that I’m _mistaken_ —well, gosh. Golly **_gosh_**. You’re the biggest IDIOT I’ve ever met. But, maybe you’re onto something. I wasn’t really lying or even exaggerating when I mentioned just how much you **_piss me off_**.”

In a flash, that vine returns around his shoulders, tight enough to at least bruise the bones. As his sockets narrow and grin remains in place, Flowey jabs one of the vines sharply into his sternum. Sans does flinch, and Flowey laughs at that, however briefly and icily.

“You must really feel special now, don’t you? Is that satisfying? Or amusing? Do you find it _humorous_? Well, you know what? You can enjoy that feeling for as long as you like.” Flowey lowered his voice. “I might as well be charitable to the toy that my best friend is going to break into pieces. Are you looking forward to that? I sure am.”

Finally, the vines fully recede, disappearing into the snow. Flowey, taking a deep breath, smiles at him as he draws away.

“Well, I better get going.”

“Before you do,” Sans says, making him pause yet again. “Can I at least ask you something?”

Flowey blinked, quirking an eyebrow. “ _Hah_? What is it, trash?”

“It’s uh, just for the sake of curiosity,” Sans says. “Because, well, you remember across timelines too, don’t cha?”

Flowey’s stare narrows. “I remember across timelines—and that you’re always a _waste_ of time especially with your unnecessary questions.”

“Hey, now, it was just a courtesy. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Anyway, I just wanted to ask...” Sans shuffled his feet and then, “What are your memories between timelines like? When the kid reaches the end of the Undergound—and then resets to the start of it? Can you tell me?”

“You don’t already know the answer to that?” Flowey asks, more curiously than mockingly. Thinking it over, he mused, “Well, it would be different for you... It’s not like you’ve ever SAVED or LOADED... You don’t have any power at all in regards to the RESETs. It’s only because of Chara’s influence that you remember in the first place.”

“Yeah...” He couldn’t disagree about any of that, even as he still wondered about it. “So...”

SAVING. RELOADING. The former kid prince made them sound so—casual, as though there wasn’t a godlike power behind them. Even though just half the possibilities made possible were beyond overwhelming to consider.

“It’s really not as interesting as you’d think,” Flowey says rather simply. “When it was me resetting, then maybe—but when it’s Chara, it’s just what it is. I’m not sure what exactly you want me to tell you.”

“Like I said, it’s just for the sake of curiosity.”

“Speaking of curiosity,” Flowey muses, tilting. “You’re usually dead when Chara starts everything over again, aren’t you? What’s _that_ like?”

It’s not really like anything.

Sans’s memories between a death and a reset are always a dull space of nothing. Almost like a dreamless sleep—or maybe it’s more like he just blacked out. He doesn’t think—doesn’t feel.

It’s just nothing.

“It’s just what it is,” Sans says, lightly as ever. “I’m not sure what exactly you want me to tell you, buddy.”

Flowey frowned, irritation curling his mouth into a sharp snarl. But that soon smoothed over into a smile.

“Alrighty then, _friend_. If you say so.” Flowey’s smile widened and brightened. “I’ll see you around, Sans. Next time, perhaps? Or maybe—next timeline? Or how about the timeline after the next after the next after the next, next, **_next_** —?” Showing sharp teeth, chuckling lowly, Flowey maliciously added, “I look _forward_ to it.”

And with that, he popped back into the ground.

Sans remained for a few moments, slouching noticeably now that he was alone and letting the haggardness of his tired grin show. It’d be much easier if he just stopped thinking—if that flower killed him even though he’d definitely give Flowey a hard time for trying that—but many thoughts rattled in his skull and he couldn’t be bothered to still them.

After a while though, something caught his attention from his peripherals. Something bright—Chara’s bright smile as they beamed up at him before snickering.

**_“It’s just what it is, huh?”_** they mockingly ask.

“It’s just what it is,” he returned, irritably.

Chara giggled at him.

* * *

It’s really not that funny. Then again, not a lot of things are anymore. It gets less and less funny as time goes on and repeats.

God, he’s so tired.

* * *

“That look on your face... You’re _really_ tired, aren’t you, Sans?”

Chara smiles at him almost sadly with a tilt of their head.

“About what I said last time...” They take a deep breath, offer their hand towards him. They still tightly grip the knife in the other. “You don’t have to tell me anything right now. It’s fine, Sans.”

Sans’s stare zeroed in on that outstretched, dusty hand. Dust fluttered in the air around, reflecting the corridor’s golden light. It almost hurt to look at.

Chara’s smile was so bright.

“We’ve all the _time_ in the world, Sans,” they say. “So don’t rush yourself. Feel free to let me know whenever you’re tired of holding onto this world. You will let me know eventually, won’t you?”

His stare hardened. But he didn’t look away from that hand until Chara had pulled it back. Then, his gaze snapped up to their grinning, giggling face.

“It’s not like you can tell your _brother_ , right?” they ask, voice lighter and warmer.

Sans didn’t flinch. He did, however, reached thoughtlessly up to grip the red scarf. He tugged at it—but it remained taut around his neck.

Chara thought it looked like a noose, but smiled on without verbalizing it. He’d see it in their eyes anyway.

It was only a heartbeat later that neon blue and yellow flashed in Sans’s left eye socket as he once again gripped their soul with a _ding_ , hand raised.

* * *

For what it was worth, he still didn’t speak a word to them. Only to his dead at the time brother—only to Papyrus.  And well, for Chara, that was fine, wasn’t it?

They were irritated, but they allowed his silence.

When they said Sans could be quiet for as long as he wanted, it was the closest thing they could say as a kind of apology. They really did...think they went too far.

They’d hurt him like that again, if it were necessary, of course—but they’d actually prefer not doing that again. It was just...common courtesy. Nothing more to it than that.

They certainly didn’t feel guilty about it. What was guilt in a world where nothing really mattered anymore?

_But the look on his face—_

...Still. Chara was perfectly fine with allowing Sans’s silence. Not because they deserved it—but just because whatever. It didn’t matter. They were fine with it nonetheless.

They were fine. It was fine. Just fine. Everything was perfectly **_f i n e_** —

Had it been fifteen timelines or fifteen hundred since Sans verbally acknowledged them? God, they didn’t know. They lost count. It felt like an eternity.

But... That was  _fine_.

Everything was fine. They had all the time in the world.

* * *

All the time in the world, huh?

How many resets had it been again?

He’s lost count.

* * *

How many more parts does he need? It’s like the list never dwindles—it’s like the list is endlessly increasing.

There’s something funny about that—funny in the way he literally cracks up thinking about it.

Except he doesn’t, really. That’s not true. It’s not that funny. He’s not laughing at all.

He’s cracking, but he’s not laughing. Not at all. Not at _all_.

* * *

“Oh... Wow... I-I... I don’t think I have any of these...”

“Huh.” He’s not surprised.

“S-Sorry, Sans...”

“Nah, it’s fine.” It’s not. Not really.

“B-But!! I think I could come up with some parts to use instead?? I-Is that okay?”

“It’s fine.” Eh.

They spend a great deal of time debating potential substitutions.

“T-Then again,” Alphys says at some point. “It kind of d-depends on whatever it is you’re making...” Then, a pause before she turned to him curiously. “W-What _are_ you building, Sans?”

Sans doesn’t answer and doesn’t even turn her way either. She flinches and quickly backpedals.

“I-I mean!! It’s obviously none of my business, b-but!! I-If I knew, I might... I might be able to help you more...? T-That makes sense, right? Uh, right?”

“It does,” he agrees. He tiredly smiles at her before forcing a low, low chuckle. “It’s just, thing is... I know I’m a funny guy and all but—I really don’t want this to sound like a joke. Even if it does. Even if it kind of is.”

“I...I won’t laugh...” Alphys promises that, at least. He knows she’ll keep it. Alphys is good about stuff like this. It’s no wonder he’s so fond of her. “You...don’t have to tell me...”

It doesn’t matter if he does or doesn’t. Because she’s not going to remember. It doesn’t matter, so...

“What’s the point?”

Alphys blinks at him, stiffening. Behind those already large frames, her eyes look even wider. All he feels is how cold his smile is.

“Hey, Al, did you know? Time is arbitrary. Space is nothing.”

She flinches. “Uh... D-Do you mean in terms of...measurements?”

“Yeah, something like that. But think bigger. Grander.”

“Sans,” Alphys says, voice shaky. “W-What brought this on?”

“Time is meaningless. Space is just a bunch of nothing. Everything we do is really just a bunch of meaningless nothing. Nothing we—well. No.” He corrects himself, almost as though that difference really matters. “Nothing _I_ do really matters. Not... Not anymore.”

“O-Oh...” Alphys fiddles with her claws uncertainly, anxiously. She seems to be at a loss. Then, somehow as though with a burst of emotion, her frown deepens and she jerks up to meet his gaze with a surprising level of assertiveness. “What do you _mean_ by that?!”

Huh.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Sans...” She’s pleading, but also pushing. “I... I-If you’re really troubled...!”

“I should talk, right?”

“Y...! Yes...?” Just like that, Alphys fizzles at his calm, level response. She’s flustered again, but troubled, too. So very, very troubled. “I-I mean... It might...help? I-I understand if you won’t talk to me—but perhaps, someone else? Your brother...is very nice... And maybe he’ll understand? Y-You should...”

“I should talk.” Sans repeats. His tone barely lightens. “Right?”

Alphys flinched, lowering her head, looking awfully ashamed. “I-I’m sorry... I mean—you probably know all this already so hearing s-someone like me say it is...must be tiring...”

His grin visibly falters. It only figures that Alphys is too busy looking down to notice. By the time she does glance back up at him, Sans is just sighing, shaking his head.

He pats her shoulder a few times, and squeezes just once before pulling back.

“Heh,” he says, and it’s with his usual wide smile. Almost like nothing was wrong at all. “You’re a real pal, Al.”

“N-Not...really...” Alphys rubs at the back of her neck, still frowning and insecure. Then, with a swallow, she says, “Um... So about those parts... I-I’m so sorry I can’t provide them to you... Even though you came all this way here... I... I’m really, really sorry, Sans.”

“...It’s fine.” Sans shrugs. “You’ve helped me out enough this time. I’ll just see you later and uh—hopefully things will be better?”

She nodded, attempting a small smile. “I-I hope you manage to build whatever it is.”

“Thanks.” A pause. “I really do appreciate it.”

Alphys snorts. She shakes her head, almost incredulously, “S-Seriously—what’s up with you, Sans? You really are acting...weird.”

The human should be arriving any minute now. He’s sure of that much.

“Weird, huh?”

“W-Well...” She hesitates. “I-I mean... You... You should know what I mean...”

“Yeah.” It’s not like he doesn’t.

“Y-You don’t have to say anything else!” Alphys squeaks with a wave of her hands, as if he was planning any different. She fiddles with her claws before going on, ducking her head and mumbling, “Um... I... You said you’ll see me later...?”

“Yeah,” he repeats and he’s gone in her next blink.

* * *

**_“Say you do finish the machine, what then?”_ **

“I guess I’ll just set everything back to what it was.” That sounded simple enough, even with the increasingly complicated endeavor of fixing said machine. “No kid to deal with—no dead prince as a flower either, preferably. Maybe.”

**_“Is that all?”_** They sounded so bored and unimpressed. Their head lolled off to the side as their hand pressed hard against their cheek in trying to support it. But at least they stopped swinging their legs from where they sat on the counter. That had been distracting.

“It’s all that matters,” Sans answers matter-of-factly as he connects a pair of wires. There’s not so much as a spark. His sockets narrow, his smile straining. “I’ll worry about the other stuff later, if I ever get there.”

**_“But you don’t think you will, do you?”_** It’s less a question and more of a fact. He knows this. He doesn’t need to hear it. The demon disguised as a child goes on oh so casually, **_“You don’t have any faith that this is going to work. That’s why you had given up on it earlier. That’s why it was so broken when you resumed working on it again.”_**

“This is all I got.” Because that’s all there is to it, right? What else is he supposed to do?

**_“You know the answer to that.”_ **

“Isn’t it bad enough that I have to deal with the kid in real life?” Sans asked loudly and irritably. “Now I have to put up with you in my head too? Seriously?”

**_“This is the only way we can talk, Sans!!”_** Chara protested—god, _Chara_. That’s exactly how Chara would act, right? He knows them so well by this point. So well he even recognizes the slightest of dents in their rosy cheeks whenever they pout at him. Like any other kid.

He knows them so well by this point. He’s probably the closest guy to this kid aside from the former prince. Aside from the king and queen—and those two don’t even _know_ —they have no _idea_ and the former kid prince doesn’t really have much of a clue, either—

**_“Your brother doesn’t know either.”_ **

Chara’s voice is cold. It’s especially chilly in this lab.

**_“You’re completely alone when it comes to me. And that’s your own fault. Do you really think a weak-willed, weak-hearted guy like you can handle something like me on your own?”_ **

Sans pauses. He looks down at the broken machine. He looks at all the broken parts, missing parts, and parts where he’s not even quite sure what the hell to do with.

“Well,” he finally says after a while, and his voice is suitably cold and bitter, “I can at least try.”

**_“For how much longer?”_ **

They’re tilting their head curiously, like they can’t even figure out the answer on their own. To be fair, he doesn’t think he can, either.

He doesn’t want to think about that at all.

* * *

_“Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?”_

He still refuses to talk to the actual kid. Fuck that.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, Sans,” they remind him.

_Fuck that._

* * *

What may or may not have been several, several, **_s e v e r a l_ ** timelines later, the demon asks, in a dull, low voice that sounds more like his own than the kid’s, **_“Well?”_ **

Sans looks at the machine. There’s still a ways to go. God knows how long it’ll be. He wonders if it’s anything like trying to reach the stars. It feels like it. It feels so much like how he dreamed that’d be like.

**_“Well? Well? Well?”_ **

The repetition is something he’s use to and somewhere it sounds like the ticking of a clock where the minute hand’s broken and it’s stuck ticking in place for whenever and ever.

**_“Sans?”_ **

It sounds just like _them_ again. He’s not sure whether to be relieved or irritated.

So Sans just sighs and, “I’m not going to talk to you anymore either.”

He can perfectly picture the way Chara would pout at him in response. He knows them so well.

For what it’s worth, he knows himself, too.

Probably.

* * *

“Paps,” Sans says as he douses the morning spaghetti in ketchup like he always does, to his bro’s disgust. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, really?” Papyrus asks, and he’s serving himself with a hum. “About what, I may inquire?”

“Well, it’s uh...” Pausing, he picks at his teeth with his pinky. He tosses an idle glance towards the mittens he carefully shed and set aside on the table so that he could eat without dirtying them. Papyrus plops down beside him.

“It might be too much on you to talk and eat at the same time, dear brother,” Papyrus chastises, though not unkindly. He’s quickly to stab through his spaghetti. It makes sounds that spaghetti probably isn’t supposed to make. “So what was it, Sans?”

“Well, it’s uh, it’s been a while since we...trained together, right?” Sans turns to him with a wide grin. Papyrus meets his gaze with confusion.

“What are you talking about, Sans?” he asks. “Didn’t we just train yesterday?”

The lights in Sans’s sockets went out.

“...did we?”

“I mean...” Papyrus pauses, hesitating. “We... We did, didn’t we? I could have sworn...”

_How long ago was yesterday? Does it matter?_

“It doesn’t matter,” Sans says, quicker than he intended. “Sometimes time just slips away. It happens.”

“Hmm...”

Papyrus still seemed to be in deep thought about it as Sans averted his sight to stare down at the mess of noodles and ketchup on his plate. Suddenly, he really wasn’t in the mood.

“... _Oh_!!” Papyrus clapped his hand together, realizing. “Sans, you wanted to do some morning training?!”

Sans just nods, and forces himself to take a bite. It tasted like mush. And salt.

“That’s GREAT! Once we finish eating, we’ll go then!!” Papyrus seemed really excited about it. As he babbled on, Sans just took another bite and another and—

After a while, he couldn’t taste anything. It’s honestly a wonder that he hasn’t completely lost his sense of taste by now.

It’s a real wonder, considering how abysmal his bro’s cooking is. When was the last time he ate anything else besides this? Yesterday?

Probably yesterday.


	10. Morning Glory; Morning Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While full of zest, Papyrus tries to completely spice things up. Sans has a bad thyme and must be treated gingerly. Other things happened, but I have more puns cumin up first. Feel free to ignore me and just curry on along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time I say "mini-arc" in regards to this story, kick my ass because I'd clearly be lying. Do not trust the word of someone clearly lying. Kick their ass instead.
> 
> Anyway, UGH. This chapter. Gave me so much trouble and is only posted now because I removed the chunk that was giving me most of the trouble. Hopefully I'll fix that damn chunk next chapter. Or...the chapter after that. Mmgh.
> 
> It was also difficult because like, I was squished between Steven Universe and Dangan Ronpa 3 animes, all three of which were...emotionally exhausting. Ahhhhh. Dangan Ronpa 3 is STILL so EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTING. AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH.
> 
> I really have nothing to say about the next chapter. I'm... I'll try to be more diligent this time!! I really do feel bad about the two months this one took!!! But like, Dangan Ronpa 3 is more likely than not going to break me and...Real life isn't being very nice either... I love Sugarless too much to let it slip through my fingers all the same. I mean. Fucking thing's over 90K words long now. I BETTER LOVE IT.
> 
> I...hope you still enjoy this chapter!! I was really excited about it!! Sorry again for the long, long wait~~ ;q;

“SANS, YOU LAZYBONES!! ARE YOU STILL NAPPING?!”

It was one of _those_ mornings.

Papyrus calling out to him as usual, and shaking him awake none too gently when he doesn’t answer.

“Sans,” Papyrus chirps, and raises his voice even louder. “Sans! _Sans_!!”

The amount of time Sans spends ignoring him goes on for longer than usual. And once it crosses over that threshold, Papyrus shoves and shouts at him. “ ** _SANS_**!!”

Finally, Sans pushes back. Specifically, he pushes his bro’s hands off of himself with a groan.

“Not today, Paps. Just...” He sighs, and rolls over onto his side as his body curls. “Not today.”

Papyrus nudged him again, scorn fading, but the concern remains. “Sans?”

Sans doesn’t answer. He just curls more into himself. Papyrus nudges him again and again, saying his name over and over and—

“ _Sans_?”

Aw, jeez.

Sans rolls onto his back, and meets his bro’s wide-eyed, worried stare with an easy albeit dreary grin.

“I just had a bit of a rough night.” The only thing that comes easier is the explanation. Though Sans’s gaze flickers blankly to the ceiling as he goes on, voice itself seeming to drag, “I’m not going to be in bed all day today, Paps. You can count on that, at least. I just...need a bit more... _time_...”

And maybe there was something about that word choice. Something...off. Something that Papyrus picked up on.

“Just a bit more time,” Sans repeats and then he chuckles lowly and mirthlessly as though it were an unfunny joke.

(Come to think of it, he wonders if this was one of the timelines courtesy of _him_ rather than _them_.)

All the same, Papyrus straightened up, bones rattling, and put his hands on his hips with his mercifully usual scorn.

“If I just let you sleep in, how am I supposed to know if you’ll get up at all, Sans?!” He crosses his arms a little too tightly, huffing. “I won’t risk it!!”

“I don’t think I can get up right now. Sorry.”

Papyrus sighs at that insincere apology, but simply replies in the most matter-of-fact tone.

“Luckily for you, I, your excessively GREAT brother, _can_ get you up, Sans. And I’ll do what I must!”

Papyrus doesn’t wait a beat before leaning down and reaching out, gripping underneath Sans’s arms and hoisted him up with a grunted _nyeh_.

“Well, I’m definitely _up_ ,” Sans muttered, wrapping his arms around Papyrus’s shoulders as an arm went to support his femurs. Resting against him with a sigh, he yawned. “I’m gonna go back to sleep, bro. Carry on.”

“UGH. That’s NOT entirely what I meant, Sans!” Papyrus bounced him into the air, causing Sans to jerk a bit, sockets blinking furiously. With a only somewhat smug grin and nyeh in response, Papyrus went on his way, Sans in tow as he went on, “I know how difficult it can be to stir you into starting the day—especially after bad nights—but _I_ , your very cool, very GREAT brother, may have finally figured out JUST the solution to this conundrum!”

Papyrus’s feet stomped against the floor with gusto. There was even a spring to his step and his bones were rattling. His grip remained firm.

Just as Sans started to drift again, there was another bounce that had him flinch as Papyrus went on exclaiming, voice raising, “When in doubt, a good morning MEAL is sure to give you a boost of energy at the start of the day! And I’ve been thinking—I should EXPERIMENT with more spices!! It might just work wonders on your early sluggishness, brother!!”

“Mm,” Sans groaned, squirming just a bit to get a better grip around his brother’s shoulders. “Are ya sure I’ll have the _stomach_ for that, though?”

“You don’t have a stomach at all!” Papyrus exclaimed. Sans couldn’t help but snicker into his scarf. Unaffected, Papyrus just went on. “I have a good feeling about this dish! I think I’ll even make a breakthrough—and joining the Royal Guard surely won’t be too far behind once I do! Undyne said so!”

“Well, anything’s pastable.”

Papyrus flicked the back of his skull.

“If it’s not too early for your terrible jokes,” he said simply and matter-of-factly as Sans rubbed where he’d been flicked. He was still chuckling as he did and as Papyrus adjusted his hold on him and went on, “You’re more than ready for the morning spaghetti, brother.”

Sans would have said more but he was plopped down onto the couch almost immediately after. Papyrus patted him fondly on his skull before going over to ready the meal. He hummed his special tune as he did—some kind of theme song that the two of them composed together a while back—and threw in all the spices. Bottles and all. All were beaten into the sauce and noodles.

Well, that’s what Sans bought them for. He just hadn’t fully considered Papyrus using them all at once. Maybe he should have. He really should have known.

Sans kept a close eye socket on both Papyrus cooking and the fire extinguisher they kept close by the kitchen. Thankfully, even as Papyrus yanked up the heat on the stove, the house didn’t burn down. The spaghetti was finished with only the ingredients as casualties.

And it smelled beyond indescribable. But Papyrus seemed just so proud as he presented Sans with his plate. He was still rattling with excitement as he set said plate down before his brother, and personally plucked off said brother’s mitten to wrap those thin little fingers around the handle of the fork.

Sans tiredly smiled up at him, flickered his gaze to the fork now in his hand, and finally the spaghetti that somehow twinkled in response. It twinkled like Papyrus’s bright, expectant gaze as Sans stabbed in his fork, twirled and took a bite.

There was a lot to chew—and it was hard to chew—but somehow Sans managed to swallow it down. Papyrus squealed with delight, clapping his hands.

“ _So_?! How was...it?”

Sans slipped from the chair and tumbled to the floor, landing on his side with nothing more than empty eye sockets and a stiff smile. Papyrus went from hopeful to horrified in the amount of time the graceless drop took.

“ _Sans_?!”

“Bro,” Sans blinked a few times, and felt the sting of honest to god tears in the corners of his sockets. “That taste _floored_ me. I... I think I can see the light...”

“Sans, you stay away from that light!!” Papyrus screeched, diving in to take his brother into his arms and shaking him none-too-gently by his shoulder. “Sans?! Sans, get UP!!”

“Farewell, Paps, it’s been totally great,” Sans croaked, tears shimmering in his empty gaze as he went on with a half-laugh, half-sob, “Never forget I love you, bro.”

Papyrus looked close to tears too. “ _SANS_!!”

“Here lies Sans,” Sans whispered, slowly shutting his sockets, and slumping in his bro’s embrace. “He _pasta_ way.”

“ _OH MY_ **GOD** _, SANS_!!”

Sans was fine after five glasses of milk washed down most of the taste. Papyrus trashed the rest of the spaghetti he made and, all things considered, didn’t seem too disappointed. Or maybe he was just thinking more about how the spaghetti made his brother cry as opposed to how hard he worked on it.

Papyrus was a terrible cook, but he could always improve. Sans wouldn’t dismiss the possibility.

_That said..._ Sans downed another glass of milk, and noted the surplus of napkins Papyrus had given him, neatly stacked upon the table. Sans couldn’t help but widen his smile.

That said, his brother really was a great guy. And he was really, _really_ cool.

* * *

His brother’s a cool guy. Despite everything, Sans never doubted that for a moment. He never will, either. He’s...sure of that much.

His brother’s a real star. There’s no doubt about that. He’s driven, compassionate, and brilliant in many ways. Sometimes he overlooks the little things. Sometimes he does the opposite and looks too hard. Sometimes he gives people too much credit. Sometimes not enough. Sometimes Papyrus is maybe a little too hard on him—sometimes he’s maybe way too _easy_. Maybe.

It’s not like he doesn’t get it. He knows Papyrus best—and Papyrus knows him best. They understand one another better than anyone else. It made things easier as well as more difficult. With time, it’s gotten even easier. With time, it’s gotten even more difficult.

For what it’s worth, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially in those times where they would’ve been alone if not for each other. Especially when Papyrus is such a large part of why he’s gotten this far in spite of everything, in spite of everything he’s done, everything he tried to do, everything he gave up on—

_Papyrus..._

Papyrus.

_“You do believe in me, right? Sans?”_

_It’s not very often Papyrus looks so uncertain._

_“Why wouldn’t I?”_

“It’s going to be FINE!!”

Papyrus is a really easy guy to find.

“The human might be...more than a little strange...but no matter! If anyone can guide them in the right direction—it’s Papyrus!! That’s...!” He could even hear the deep intake of breath before Papyrus went on. “That’s... That’s what Sans would say! And Sans is right sometimes! Not often, but sometimes!”

It’s not very often he looks so uncertain. His poor bro.

“NYEHEHEH!! THERE’S NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT!!!”

It’s like if he thought the louder the words were, the more he’d have to believe them. To be fair, Undyne certainly advocated screaming as a way to push oneself onward. Of course Papyrus would take that to heart.

“NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT AT _ALL_!!! I’M THE GREAT PAPYRUS SO IT’S GOING TO BE FINE!!”

With his hands on his hips, chest puffed out, Papyrus grinned the broadest that he could. And it’s here he cuts in.

“Icy you’re looking especially _cool_ for the occasion, bro.”

Instantly, Papyrus’s eye sockets snapped open and he did a double-take, nearly jumping as he squeaked out, “S- _Sans_?!”

“Heya,” Sans waved at him ever so cheerfully. Like they just came across one another by chance rather than Sans appearing before him without warning. “It’s an _ice_ day out, isn’t it? Birds are singing—flowers are blooming... Except, not really. Because of all the snow. And ice.”

“You’re... You’re supposed to be in Hotlands, Sans. Are you done with your errands so soon??” Papyrus was blinking at him helplessly, though he quickly regained himself. He took a deep breath, folding his arms. “You’re not slacking off, are you?”

“Ooh.” Sans winced. “I just wanted to greet my bro and this is the hello I get? Man, Paps, that’s just cold.”

“I...!” Papyrus stopped himself but ducked his head with a groan. “My apologies, brother. But you can’t blame me for the assumption considering well, _you_.”

“Fair enough,” Sans concedes with a shrug. “So, uh, what’s up? Something about a human, huh? Man, I missed a lot.”

“Yes,” Papyrus says, and he sighs, seeming so much wearier. “I met a human while you were...away. I think? Undyne called me and said so... They were quite...strange, I have to say.”

“Just strange?”

“They might have also been...” Papyrus trailed off into a grumble. “...rude...”

“Strange _and_ rude?”

“They wouldn’t let me TALK! They wouldn’t do ANY puzzles! Very rude! VERY strange! And...! Something else about them... The powder on their hands and the way they shamble from place to place...” Papyrus crossed his arms tightly. “There’s something wrong with them, and I get this feeling that I... I know them somehow? And that just...worries me even further?? Well—either way, when I confront them, I’ve already got my speech together and...”

Sans’s hand closes around his bro's wrist. His grip is tight.

Papyrus stops speaking, and looks down at his brother’s straining grin, at lightless sockets and all these edges to his expression.

“Sans...?” Sans doesn’t answer verbally, but his grip tightens. Papyrus doesn’t wince, but he does soften his voice a bit as he goes on, “Undyne said that...I shouldn’t go near that human. Because they’re...not the greatest of people. B-But! Just because they’re—not that great—maybe even, terrible as it were—I don’t think I can just leave them alone. If anyone can reach them, maybe teach them about bettering theirself to become great, well, then, who better than The Great—”

“Papyrus.” Those lights in his brother’s sockets flickered into focus. Papyrus grinned widely, forcing it, and nodded.

“Papyrus,” Sans says again, and he tugs at his wrist. “You said you knew them?”

“I... Maybe? They’re familiar, for what it’s worth. But I’ve never met a human before so it might not be anything—that...important. Sans, you’re... You’re acting strange, too. Do _you_ know this human?”

Sans stared at him for a long while.

“That’s a strange question, bro.”

“W-Well! I...! I...concede your point.” Papyrus cleared his throat awkwardly. “N-Never mind that, then! They... They just showed up today—so it wouldn’t make sense if... Except... No, never mind, never mind.” He shook his head furiously. “Sans... You... You look like you want to say something?”

Sans only nods, lights flickering into focus within his sockets, only for his grin to wilt even more.

“...I...have a lot of things to say, actually.”

* * *

He’s had to have grieved at one point. He’s had to—but it’s like whenever he sees his brother’s scarf, buried with snow and dust, rather than scream or cry or break—he doesn’t...really feel anything.

Later, he learns that feeling is not unlike what comes after dying. He wonders if he should be comforted by that thought. He really isn’t.

There’s...bitterness to that realization.

At least when Undyne finds the scarf and wraps it around herself—well, he’s bothered but he can accept it. At least she looks cool, right?

_When Undyne, without hesitation, took her best friend’s scarf to wrap it around Sans’s neck, never mind how little it suited him—_

His brother’s a great guy. Undyne’s a good person. It’s no wonder the two of them got along so well.

_“Your weaknesses have made everyone so much_ **g e n t l e r** _, haven’t they?”_

Heh. Huh. It’s easy to see that. It’s easy to come to that conclusion.

After all, god, wasn’t _Undyne_ just the perfect example of that behavior?

Even Papyrus, to an extent...

Well, at least he didn’t have to care about that anymore. At least, he didn’t think he had to.

After all, Chara wasn’t going to let him stay dead. At least, not until—

_Until..._

* * *

“More likely than anything else, that human is going to try to kill you. But, well, I’m sure you understand that, Papyrus.”

Papyrus, at the very least, nods even with a small, forlorn frown at the thought.

“Undyne probably didn’t say that to you outright—but the implications from her tone weren’t exactly subtle, huh?”

Papyrus laughs, albeit ruefully. “Subtly is _not_ Undyne. I actually think she was only barely refraining from, well, saying that outright. She really struggled, too. I could tell.”

Sans wants to laugh, too—but he doesn’t.

“She can be pretty cool sometimes.” Sans’s smile twitches. “But she’s still not as cool as you, bro.”

Papyrus does smile at him, but that smile soon falters.

“Sans... If necessary... Can you apologize to her for me?” The question is uncharacteristically soft. There’s a painful familiarity to its resigned quality, especially as Papyrus goes on, “She’s definitely going to be, well, more than a little upset when she learns that I confronted the human. But I like to think she’ll understand. Can you help her, if necessary? Sans?”

Sans, humming, only echoes. “If necessary, huh?”

“Can you promise me, Sans?” Papyrus asks, considerably more assertive, especially when he met his brother’s gaze with a firm, resolute stare. He then smiles, as if trying to be reassuring. “I know you’ll be able to—you may be unhelpful most of the time, but when it matters, you’re still the brother of the very cool, very reliable me. Right?”

“Heh,” Sans chuckles, winces, and then visibly _recoils_ back as his teeth begin to grit. “Aw jeez... Aw _jeez_ —”

Papyrus blinked in confusion, instinctively reaching out to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. Sans was still rattling.

“...Sans?”

“You’re so cool, Papyrus,” Sans breathes, and the rattling worsens. “Bro, you’re so cool; you’re just **_so_** _cool_ —”

“Sans...?!” Papyrus’s panicked voice raises to significantly above usual volume. “ ** _SANS_**?!?!”

“You’re so cool, Paps,” Sans whispers and immediately, Papyrus pulls him into a tight, tight embrace as though that’d settle all the rattling.

Even though Papyrus himself was rattling. Papyrus was shaking.

But his grip was firm. Fearful, like he was holding onto something **_f r a g i l e_**. . .

There’s a sob muffled into his shoulder. Sans is still. Sans feels...cold. He shouldn’t feel cold. He shouldn’t **_feel_** anything, except, wait... Wait...

“Papyrus?” he asks, like he’s really kind of confused for the moment. He hugs his bro back, and Papyrus settles, just a bit, but he’s still shaking. Just a bit. Sans pats his back, then rubs soothing circles into it, murmuring, “Papyrus...”

Papyrus’s breath hitches a bit, and begins to pull back. In such a short moment, Sans sees his bro’s expression clearly. The blatant worry, the fear—but that flash of hope, of relief...

“You’re so cool,” Sans says and disappears.

* * *

Their favored training spot is a different clearing than the one Flowey showed him. But on first glance, there’s really not much difference. The two of them hardly need to mark any trees indicating the way. They know the way there by heart.

Papyrus’s bones rattle as he jogs up ahead, though he stops a few times so that Sans, with his short legs and slow, steady pace, can catch up. Papyrus beckons him with his hand a few times in impatience, calling out to him to hurry, but Sans just waves him off.

“If I tire myself out before we even start,” Sans does say, as he’s said before, “There won’t be much point in coming all the way out here, right?”

“Lazybones!” Papyrus shouts, accusingly.

“It’s... I’m just pacing myself, bro. Chill out.” He already sounds tired. That’s...probably not good.

No, it’s definitely not good. Not with the way Papyrus immediately frowns in response with clear concern. With a blink, Sans teleports several steps ahead, making his brother whirl around with surprise. With another wave of his hand, Sans called out.

“C’mon, bro. Don’t get left in the dust now.”

Papyrus was by his side in an instant, matching his pace this time.

“Sans,” Papyrus says and there’s a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I think we can afford to _step it up_ a bit.”

“Eh.” Sans patted his hand with a low chuckle. “That sounds fair enough.”

Papyrus immediately sped on ahead. Sans quickened his pace in response so that he wouldn’t fall behind. Never once does his gaze leave the brilliant red of his brother’s scarf, flapping in the wind behind him.

It’s not just how cool it looks. He’s also barely able to look away when that scarf is flapping from where it’s partially buried with snow and dust. There’s just...something about the color, maybe.

Something...like that...

* * *

“Alright. You first. Throw me a bone, bro.”

“You want to start with the sparring?” Papyrus asked with a curious tilt of the head. Even though all Sans did was shrug, Papyrus’s sockets lit up with enthusiasm and he quickly struck a dramatic pose, pointed towards the sky beyond the ceiling, only the widest of grins on his features.

“Get ready, SANS!!” he exclaimed, punctuating the words with an especially dramatic point towards the person in question. “For though you are my dearest brother, I will go NO EASIER on you this time compared to the last! I will halt your dastardly deeds in their TRACKS!!”

“Kay,” Sans said simply, and his grin widened as well, sockets narrowing as he ever so slightly braced himself. “Let’s see you try, Paps.”

Papyrus, with a twinkle in his stare, immediately summoned wave upon wave for Sans to jump over. No hits off the bat, unsurprisingly, but Paps was hardly deterred when he followed up with several quick in succession throws of bones that Sans sidestepped with much more narrowing results.

“Cutting it close, Sans,” Papyrus said, almost with a bit of a scolding edge. “If this is how you start off, I worry for how things will end up.”

“Sorry, it’s just...” _Been a while._ Sans shook his head like that’d shake off the thought. “Heh, I guess I’m still a little groggy. Welp. Better give myself a wake-up call then.”

_Just think of the kid._

And with a sweep of his hand and the flicker of a raging flame in his left socket, Sans mirrored that first attack only multiplied in scale and ferocity.

_When it’s that kid, be nothing short of alert._

Locked onto his leaping, slippery target, his focus intensified on getting several good hits on them as he aimed bone after bone for what he pictured to be the kid’s SOUL, gleaming a brilliant red.

_Because, otherwise..._

The red kept eluding his grasp to Sans’s frustration, and he reached out—

_G A M E **O V E R** , _ **right** _?_

At the last minute, right before his left eye socket flickered with neon blue and yellow—something was thrown at him. He immediately, but narrowly, dodged. And he caught the projectile’s gleam as it whizzed right by his cheek, impaling itself in the tree with a sharp _thwack_.

It only took a second to register that said gleam wasn’t crimson red but instead a soft, vibrant blue that had him freeze. Almost like he finally felt the chilly air all around.

Papyrus, panting, grinned at him, with his arm still outstretched from having thrown that bone.

“Wowie, Sans,” he breathed, pulling back and applauding with delight. “Just then—there was a _fire_ in your eyes I’ve never seen before!! You actually looked pretty—COOL!! Oh, I wish Undyne had _seen_!!”

Papyrus’s bones were rattling. His wide grin extended even more.

To Sans, it just looked rigid while everything else rattled. Stiff, even though his brother was clearly shaken.

“Ah, heh.” Sans chuckled, rubbing at the back of his skull sheepishly. “Aw, geez. I, uh... I don’t know if I’d want ‘dyne seeing that kind of display, ya know? Cuz then, well, she might start having higher than minimal _expectations_ of me. Yeah, no thanks.”

“...Seriously?” Papyrus asked, one flat and unimpressed. “Wowie. Never mind, you’re still largely deficient on the cool scale, Sans.”

“Eh, what can I say?” Sans shrugged nonchalantly, toeing at the snow with his sneaker. “Compared to my super cool bro, anyone would seem lacking.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere!!” Papyrus shouted at him with a huff and hands on his hips.

But...he wasn’t rattling anymore. He didn’t look shaken anymore. He looked considerably eased.

“Yeah,” Sans says, gracious but also straining his smile. “I guess.”

“Sans!!” Papyrus chirped, giving Sans a stern, expectant look as he held out his hand. Magic formed into bones and after barely a flicker of blue in his brother’s sockets, Sans felt a gentle yet firm grip on his SOUL—and the accompanying _DING_ was resounding in his skull.

“You’re blue now!!” Papyrus exclaimed, grinning widely, with more of that theatrical flourish. “Let’s see where you go from here, Sans!! Even if the only direction you should go is technically up!”

Sans’s lop-sided smile quirked at its left corner, and he didn’t fight that pull on his SOUL at all. Just accepted it without question—why not? The familiarity of the magic used was _comforting_. It was almost enough to make his heart ache with the added weight.

God, it really has been so long—when it was only _yesterday_ —

“Alright, bro. Let’s go.”

* * *

Papyrus’s magic doesn’t stop him from teleporting, but in a situation like this, he needs to be sparing with it. Closest of close calls only, otherwise Papyrus will get onto him for being cheap.

But Papyrus is enjoying himself right now—he’s positively giddy with how well Sans is doing, dodging his attacks even as he’s weighed down by the blue magic.

“Any moment now, and you’ll break your record, Sans!!”

“Huh. Really?”

He can’t remember what his record is anymore. He wonders what his ‘record’ would be in regards to the kid—and it takes him a few seconds too long to shove that thought out of the forefront of his mind, even as it lingers in the back.

“You’re doing so WELL, Sans!!”

Papyrus almost sounds proud. _Huh_.

Weird.

“Uh, thanks.”

Did his bro’s grin just falter for a bit? If it did, that only lasted for the briefest of moments. Is that something he should question? Eh, probably not. But if it’s recurring or something like that, he should—

Sans barely avoids grazing against the bones moving up and down. His land is just a little on the graceless side as he slides through the snow.

It’s nothing like tiles. White is nothing like gold.

He relaxes, for just a moment, and catches his breath.

“Sans!” Papyrus barks at him when his moment lasts a little too long. “Let’s continue!!”

_Yeah,_ Sans thinks as his head ducks, something twisting at his smile. _Chara is nothing like this._

**_“Is that a good thing?”_** they ask, with a curious tilt of their head. **_“Or is it bad?”_**

Sans inhales, and readies himself for more of those jumps. In the very least, Papyrus has stopped going easy on him—some of these leaps are a lot harder than the maneuvering required for dodging the kid’s knife. Objectively speaking, it’s more difficult.

And this isn’t even the extent of his bro’s capabilities. He knows it—he can feel it through Papyrus’s magic in the air, and the magic encasing his SOUL. Papyrus is putting a lot into his attacks, but he’s not putting his _all_ into them.

But, Chara didn’t always put their all into their fights either. Chara was perfectly fine with dying to him. They didn’t mind dying and honestly, at this point—well, Sans hardly minds it himself. Because, death is _meaningless_ when it doesn’t stick. When it doesn’t stick, it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.

A meaningless inconvenience that invalidates the meaning of so many _other_ things by proxy.

_I’ll just wake up back in bed or at the Judgement Hall. And everything starts all over again. And again. And again. And—_

“Again.”

Another precise jump. Magic buzzes at his fingertips. There’s a pattern to his bro’s attacks that he’s picked up on. He knows his bro’s magic as well as he knows his own. It’s hardly a surprise, but still—

“Again.”

Bones are rattling. They’re rattling at each other. They’re grinning at each other. It’s like looking into a distorted mirror—and maybe, just maybe Papyrus’s features twist a bit in response to what he sees. Just a bit—it’s a fleeting moment, as though this fleeting timeline isn’t full of those already.

“Again.”

He’s still for blue attacks but has to time his jumps for interlaced attacks that are the usual shade of _bone_ -white. It’s a tricky pattern—one that requires quick reflexes to fully avoid. He’s just quick enough—he’s barely enough. Man, _that’s_ a surprise.

“Again.”

Papyrus does not attack next turn. He just stops, looking at Sans quizzically, at his twitching fingers and rattling bones. His blue attack is no longer in use.

“Again,” Sans repeats. It’s firm. Somewhere, a distant part of him registers the pleading undertone because—because he sees how Papyrus _looks_ at him—how Papyrus has registered that undertone as well.

_That look on his face—that’s the look of someone who—_

“Wowie, Sans,” Papyrus breathes. “I’ve never seen you so pumped up before. Are you—are you sure you’re _really_ Sans?”

A light laugh. It sounds nervous. That question sounded only half-joking.

“...Yes.” And that’s the best Sans has for an answer.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled!” His bro chirps with a clap of his hands and a bright smile. But it’s not as bright as it could be. “But I have to say, dear brother, I’m GREATLY impressed by your improvement! You surpassed your record by a whopping SEVEN turns!!”

“Well it’s not just me,” Sans says, shrugging his shoulders. “Some of your attack patterns have gotten really intricate—really cool. Even more so than usual. What I mean is...” With an easy smile, idly rocking on his heels, he meets his bro’s sparkling gaze. “You’ve been doing pretty well yourself, Paps.”

“But of course!!” That wide grin on his face suggested that he expected no different in that regard. “If even his lazybones brother is doing well, then The GREAT Papyrus is bound to be doing GREATLY well as well as he ALWAYS does!”

Sans chuckles, and then says, “I’m really _grate_ ful for that.”

A pause.

Papyrus puts his hands on his hips with a long-suffering groan. “Next time we’ll be improving your sense of humor.”

“My _sanse_ of humor?”

“OH MY GOD, SANS.”

Sans chuckled, muffling the sounds with his mitted hand. Papyrus does glance back at him, with those bugged out angry eye sockets, and he considerably softens before sighing.

“Anyway,” Papyrus turns to face him, resuming a wide grin. “So, for next time, we should...”

“Hey, Papyrus.”

Papyrus stops, blinking a few times with surprise. Sans lowers his hand, and meets that slightly surprised stare evenly.

“How about for this next round—you put your absolute all into it?”

Papyrus flinches, utterly taken aback. “Sans, you want to go ANOTHER round?! You aren’t _TIRED_ yet?!?!”

“Nah,” Sans says simply, huffing. Papyrus looks unconvinced, so he asserts, “I could do this _all_ day. Or not. Probably not. Let’s see how long I can _really_ last.”

“W-Well! If you INSIST!!” But then why does Papyrus look like he’s hesitating? “That said, regardless, I won’t go easy on you, Sans!”

“Course not. You’ll be giving it your _all_ ,” Sans says, and then asks, expectant, “Right, Paps?”

“Nyeheheh—of _course_!” The agreement is immediate. Thoughtless. Almost immediately after, he sees how Papyrus falters, how he hesitates—“Do we resume right _now?_ You sure don’t want a rest? Maybe a quick nice cream break?”

“Wow, really?” Sans laughs and then, “You’re starting to sound like me, bro. Now that’s worrying.”

Papyrus’s smile strains even more.

“But, hey, if you aren’t really up for an all or nothing round,” Sans shrugs as he goes on, sighing, “Welp, I guess we _should_ stop then. But I can’t help but feel a little let down, bro. Still, it’s fine, man, it happens...”

“There’s NOTHING wrong with me!!” Papyrus bursts out before he can finish. “I’m as GREAT and SPIRITED as ever! Another round would HARDLY be a challenge, even with The Great Papyrus putting his oh so great EVERYTHING into it—!!”

“Then that’s settled,” Sans finishes, grinning up at him as he stiffens. “I know you’d never let me down, Paps. So don’t go easy on me, alright? I can handle whatever you throw.”

“Of...course, brother.” Papyrus, for what it’s worth, tries to smile assuringly. But there’s something off—like there’s some part of his bro that still has...doubts. A persistent feeling of off—of wrong. “Just—there’s no shame in speaking up if...”

“Let’s resume, Papyrus.”

He pauses, and then, with a swallow, Papyrus just nods.

“...Okay.”

His voice is just as high-pitched and also as sharp as the _DING_ that accompanies it as Papyrus once again grips his SOUL.

Sans feels his brother’s hesitation keenly enough to hesitate himself. But ultimately, like how Papyrus himself would, he pushes that hesitation back, and pushes himself onwards.

* * *

Mathematics, sciences, physics are their own kind of battle, but they’ve all got formulas that ease the steps. There’s a formula here, too, to an extent—but in the end, it’s still all a matter of reflexes and endurance.

Another jump to avoid waves, side-step to avoid projectiles—don’t forget to keep guard on _all_ sides. Because of course Undyne had to teach Papyrus _something_ in terms of battle tactics. Come to think of it, the glow of his brother’s magic wouldn’t be out of place among Waterfall’s luminosities.

How cool. His bro is really, _really_ cool. _But._

Sans trips trying to avoid the next attack, and it’s like everything immediately stops the second he just barely catches himself from landing face-down into the ground. He’s panting, vision blurring, and he just barely catches the way Papyrus flinches as he takes a tentative step towards him.

“Sans...” His brother’s voice hangs in the air.

“ _Paps_ ,” Sans says, and digs into the snow with his shoe as he steadies himself. “I think you can do better than this. C’mon—give it _all_ you’ve got.”

“You SAY that, but—!!” Another sweep of bones that Sans has to jump over and through. He almost stumbles on the landing, and Papyrus huffs, chest puffed out and exclaims, “All YOU’RE doing is dodging, Sans!! You can’t dodge forever!”

Sans blinked. And—

**_“You can’t keep dodging forever.”_ **

Was that a flicker of a memory? Huh.

Sans sends up a wall of bones to cancel out the next attack flung at him. Somewhere, he hears them _laughing_. Blue shifts to red—white shifts to gold. But he blinks again, and quickly shakes his head.

“Heh,” he says, and grins. “Fair enough. I should throw you a bone too—it’s only fair after all.”

“ _Sans_ —!” Papyrus’s angry exclamation was cut off when Sans did, in fact, throw a bone at him. It smacked him dead-center of his forehead, and he flinched more from surprise than the whole 1HP of health it took. Somehow, that just got Papyrus even more incensed. “You’re not even taking this SERIOUSLY _even though_...!”

**_“He really doesn’t know anything, does he?”_ **

But he did seem pretty frustrated. Maybe because _Sans_ was the one pushing him. Who wouldn’t be frustrated at that? Who wouldn’t think something might have been wrong with that scenario?

**_“Are you really Sans?”_ **

Sans wondered about that.

There was a crackle of magic in the air. The flicker of a beginning flame.

Papyrus noticed—and he perked up with surprise and a bit of confusion as wisps of blue drifted into the air. Sans’s fingers from within that snowy white mitten began to twitch.

“Ah... Sans?”

“Paps,” Sans returns, and he takes a deep breath. “I uh, really want you to not cut me any slack here. Seriously. Because, well, it’s kind of a serious situation...? I mean, c’mon, bro, _think_ —what are you going to do—when you’re up against an opponent...

“...that’s out for **d u s t**?”

**_“Your weaknesses have made everyone so much_ gentler _, haven’t they?”_**

Papyrus looked so much smaller when he was staring down the barrels of several different blasters, with sockets so wide in shock and maybe, just maybe—a bit of fear.

What an upsetting sight.

“Sometimes people like that...” Sans shrugs, sighing. “They just can’t be reasoned with.”

_...his bro looked so much smaller..._

And then they all went off at once.

* * *

For what it was worth—Papyrus did dodge that. He still had his arms crossed in front of him as a brace, and a look that was reminiscent to staring down a ticking time bomb. He could have been afraid still—but that was definitely a look of worry above all else.

_Huh._ Chara never looked at him like that. But of course they wouldn’t.

“Sometimes...” Sans found himself going on, finding himself irritated at that thought. “Sometimes no matter what you do, what you say, what you point out—people like that just won’t _listen_. Sometimes there’s just no choice, y’know? You have to—you have to—then again...”

More blasters flickered into existence. One by one they fired at their target—but said target just dashed out of the way each time. The target was almost too quick to keep up with. _Huh_.

“Maybe that’s just an excuse for being lazy?” Sans wondered dully before shrugging that thought off. “Hell if I know.”

Magic burned the air—and the trees and the grounds, leaving behind trails of ash. Darkened, black ash—it really contrasts against all that _white_.

This is something else.

**_“It’s something else!!”_** They squealed with delight. And immediately, Sans zeroed in on that brilliant red, standing out so vividly among everything else. He could practically see Chara’s ecstatic, rosy-cheeked smile, stretched so wide and showing white, dust-speckled teeth.

Their eyes, looking almost crimson red, were alit.

**_“Sans,”_** they say, and bounce on their heels. **_“Again.”_**

They jumped out of the way of the blasters’ line of fire, hopping over bones he had springing up from the ground. And giggling all the while.

**_“Again.”_** They twirl around, avoiding bones and blasters, bright with laughter. **_“Again.”_** Laughter’s resounding and rattling from the inside of his skull. **_“Again.”_**

Blue and yellow flared inside his socket, irritating him even more, and Sans responded with taking a sharp grip on that kid’s SOUL with every intent to slam them into the ground, trees, maybe even the ceiling several, several, several stories above— _maybe hard enough to break through to the surface_ —

Except. Something shatters his grip. And Papyrus’s voice rings out,

“S- _SANS_!!”

Sans flinches and then shuts his eye sockets painfully tight as he shakes his head furiously. Trembling, bones rattling, his gaze flickers back open. His sight is blurring, but he can make out Papyrus standing before him. Barely. He can’t register much else—but he knows his bro’s shape anywhere. He can also tell that he’s not the only one rattling right now.

“S-Sans...” Papyrus is stammering. And isn’t that really kind of _weird_? Isn’t it _uncharacteristic_? Sans droops a bit, catching his breath as he did. It hurt. It uh, jeez—it _really_ kind of hurt. But... _But_... “Maybe... We should...stop... If we continue going on like this, it might not be... Well, I mean...! Sans... Sans, you... You look _so_ tired, Sans.”

But, actually, he could ignore that.

“Paps, I’ve got a question for ya.” He wipes at his mouth with his sleeve, grin twitching with a low, rumbling chuckle. “What would it take for you to stop holding back? Having someone to protect? Having to protect _everyone_? Or is it only a last resort for those even you know are a hopeless cause? Then again, heh, I really don’t know what it’d take for _you_ to lose hope in someone...”

“Sans...?” Papyrus took a tentative step towards him, reaching out.

His sight’s blurring again. He can’t see anything but red and white. His rattling intensifies as he laughs, voice hoarse and harsh.

“You’re so cool. You seriously, sincerely believe that anyone could be a good person... That takes real strength, I think.” He means it. He really does. “But... Uh, thing is... Not everyone’s capable of being that strong, y’know? In fact, uh, _most_ people aren’t? Isn’t that sad? Isn’t that terrible?”

From what he could tell, Papyrus wavered. Or maybe that was a misconception based on his still blurring sight.

“Sans...” Papyrus does however speak up, stern and _that’s more like it_ —“I disagree.”

“Heh. Heheh. Of course you do. That’s—that’s fair. Maybe you’re right? I mean, people are often a lot more capable than they give themselves credit for...” _But._ “For a guy like me, I just find it hard to believe.”

“Sans,” Papyrus sighs and, well—he uh, sounds kind of frustrated. Pretty stressed, too. Welp. “I really don’t understand what all this is about, but perhaps we really _should_...”

“Let’s keep going.”

Sans blinks sharply, trying to focus his sights a bit more. No good—still blurry. He smacked the side of his skull as though that’d knock everything into focus. Before him, the scene flashes into one with Chara smiling at him against the backdrop of a beautiful corridor filtered with golden light.

His grin tightens, sockets narrowing as he says, sharper and firmer, “Don’t hold _anything_ back.”

“Sans...?”

* * *

Because he might as well _not_ hold anything back.

It’s all going to reset anyway so what does it matter if he throws everything he has into it, damn the consequences?

He’s not a guy who enjoys fighting. He avoids it, of course, just for practicality’s sake. If he died—just what would that do to Papyrus? That alone is more than enough reason to play things more than a little safe. Besides, he’s always been more for conversation than confrontation.

He’s probably tried to talk the kid down before in timelines where their expression wasn’t so utterly hopeless and vacant. It wouldn’t do any good, obviously—but sometimes just letting his mouth run could calm him down. Maybe he’d think less about how he was aiming for the kill here, with a kid he promised to protect.

But when he saw that kid, with that expression, all his planned speeches and ideas for one-sided conversation just...crumbled into dust.

Because he knew he died to them before—more times than he could count—and not even out of any sort of twisted enjoyment. He _knew_ he was going to die to them again.

And just like that, he felt beyond exhausted.

* * *

“Sans...?”

That voice sounds distant. Sans can’t help but think of birds singing, flowers blooming—

And then in that moment of surprise, he manages to grab ahold of the SOUL before him and flung it to the side. Something’s off. Something’s _really_ kind of off. But all he sees is red, red, **_red_** —so...

The buzz of the blasters—the dust and ash in the air—at the moment, _this_ is everything. This is what it all leads up to. Everything he’s done, everything he’s tried for, everything he gave up—for this.

What else was there? What else was the point?

The kid giggled at him, giving him a knowing sort of grin. Their thumb draws a line across their throat.

Sans stops, shudders, and shakes his head.

“There’s nothing besides this,” he mutters, lowly and darkly, to himself because _he’s not talking to them anymore_. “There’s nothing else—”

But, hey, maybe that’s not so bad.

_Because._

Putting his all into killing this person—pushing himself like this even though it’s hardly in his nature to and returning to this moment again and again—he’d be lying if... If he said he didn’t feel anything here, compared to everything else, in spite of everything.

He _feels_ something—and that, that’s _something_ , right?

He locks onto red, and with a wave of his hand, summons more of those blasters.

They dodge. They dodge that and they dodge any bones that spring up or thrown towards them.

They can’t dodge forever.

But they’re not even attempting to attack him, either.

Just dodging.

Maybe they’re saying something—but all Sans registers is ringing and buzzing.

There’s also something that tugs at his SOUL, but...

He doesn’t bother thinking about it—he barely if ever thinks about anything at all in times like this.

Thinking things over, planning, strategizing; that’d just make things easier on _them_. He can’t have that.

But it’s still so easy to fall into some kind of pattern. To fall back on the same rows of bones and blasters—even as everything goes by in quicker, shorter blinks.

Dodge. Dodge. Dodge.

Again. Again. Again.

There’s nothing except this. But at least he feels something. And maybe, just maybe, he clings to _that_ in spite of everything else.

_(...something wasn’t right. Something was seriously wrong. It’s really kind of strange. His SOUL is resonating with something else—he feels it—but he doesn’t_ really _feel it. In regards to whatever this something is, he just feels detached. He_ doesn’t _really care.)_

He got a few lucky shots in. They’re, huh, really durable this go-around, for what it’s worth.

_(Something’s definitely wrong. Still.)_

It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters? Nothing matters.

_(In a world like this, there’s no_ point _—)_

Sans thinks of somewhere else where it’s raining. Sans thinks of Chara’s smile, and the crimson point of a blade. Suddenly it hurts.

**_“Oh, Sans. You poor thing.”_** Their voice sounds so mocking now—but at the time it might’ve been sincere. What a hilarious thought.

It really hurt.

_(A few more successful hits. They’re slowing down, as if focused on something else. That’s...weird.)_

**_“Sans.”_ **

It really, really hurt.

_(The ringing gets louder. So does the buzzing it’s like there’s_ static _everywhere—)_

**_“Aren’t you tired?”_ **

He was. But it’s not like that mattered.

_(Sans brushes it off. He ignores it.)_

**_“What_ does _matter?”_**

Did they _ever_ shut up?

_(He can’t brush this off, for whatever reason.)_

**_“Tell me, Sans... What’s the point of holding onto it anything in a world like this?”_ **

Why weren’t they _dead_ yet?

They should be—they’ve almost intentionally gotten hit so many times now.

He’s used to that—but he’s not used to them lasting this long in _spite_ of that. It’s—weird.

_(It doesn’t matter. Keep going.)_

**_“Shouldn’t you only hold onto the things you_ can _lose?”_**

Keep going. Keep _going_. They have to fall eventually, right? Granted, it won’t matter because resets, but... _But_...

_(What does he have to lose again?)_

Sans can’t help but muffle a giggle against his mitten as the blasters go off. It still doesn’t kill anyone—but he can’t stop laughing and laughing even as his hands are pressed hard enough against his smile to be suffocating.

But how would he know how that feels? It’s not like he has lungs.

Hilarious. It’s _hilarious_.

And—

_(This doesn’t matter either.)_

He sees that red closing in.

He’s going to be killed again, huh? Well, it’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s used to it.

According to humans, apparently skeletons _are_ dead by design. So this is okay. This is fine.

When was the last time he’s ever really _been_ alive? He might as well embrace death like an old pal, considering how well-acquainted the two of them are by now.

_(It’s just going to be reset, right?)_

Except Sans recoils back. It’s in his instinct to avoid that knife. He can’t help it.

He also can’t help the short burst of laughter through his teeth, breath hitching, and as they finally, _finally_ lash out at him, he dodges with a quick sidestep and—

And they’re _faster_. And they seize his arm in a tight grip before he even has _time_ to react.

It’s...

It’s enough to get him to panic. And when a monster panics, magic just sort of...explodes all over around them. It’s really kind of a mess. It’s a mess.

Sans isn’t even sure if he made a sound, like an undignified yelp or even a full-out scream. But he definitely feels his magic _burst_ even as they hold on. They hold on tight.

They hold onto him tight and fast, voice choked up and cracked, rattling inside his skull alongside all the bones as they cry out.

“ _SANS_!”

...Oh.

That’s... That’s his brother.

It’s his bro.

It’s Papyrus.

...It’s _Papyrus_.

Papyrus is holding onto him firmly and fearfully. Papyrus is trembling, still rattling. And yet, Papyrus also tightens his embrace, SOUL pulsing with such _emotion_ that it’s beyond baffling Sans didn’t notice earlier. But maybe all that pulsating got mixed up with his own soul.

That happens a lot between the two of them. It makes things messier than they should be. But it is what it is.

Magic is still crackling in the air as it dissipates. Sans is still twitching, and not nearly as relaxed into the familiar arms wrapped around him as he should be. He should relax. He should. But it’s like something got disconnected.

“Sans,” Papyrus says, and Sans hears how his name cracks even more as his bro clearly pleads, “ _Sans_.”

Papyrus sniffles, shoulders shaking. Wet. There’s...tears staining his hood and shoulder. Papyrus seems to be fighting them off, with little success. But he’s still _crying_. At least he isn’t sobbing.

_What’s wrong with you?_ Even that snappy thought sounded tired. _What the hell is **wrong** with you?_

Sans blinks once, twice. He stiffens, and then curls his hands into fists, slackening with a sigh. It’s a small step, but it’s something.

Then, he _CHECKS_ that SOUL pulsing against him, so close and so similar to his own.

**15/680 HP**

... _Oh_.

Suddenly the excessive rattling on Papyrus’s part makes a lot more sense outside of his bro being emotional. Papyrus _had_ sounded pretty strained earlier, hadn’t he?

It’s now much easier to notice all the scuffs and scrapes on bone and battle body alike. There are cracks located on Papyrus’s back that he could run his fingers over if he so wanted. And he did—those cracks caught onto the fabric of his mittens as he did.

_Huh. I_ **did** _this._

_He_ did this?

Sans blinked once. Twice.

“...Papyrus...”

Papyrus seized up for a bit, and clung onto him tighter, voice rattling with his bones, “Y-Yes, Sans?”

“I’m sorry.” Sans pressed back against him. “I, uh, aw _jeez_ , I—oh god, Paps, I’m _so_ sorry.”

“It’s okay!!” Papyrus is so quick to answer. He almost rushed to answer before he takes a deep breath and, “I-I already forgive you, Sans! It’s _okay_!”

“Is it?” he wonders dully, almost distantly. Papyrus pats his back, and rubs soothing circles into it. For a moment, Sans is quiet. He doesn’t say anything even as countless words rattle in his skull. Honestly, he’s not even sure if he can muster up a halfway decent sentence at the moment.

It’s...troubling. Talking his way out of problems is usually how things go.

He can’t think of what to say at all. He’s not even sure what to think other than—

Chara’s smiling at him. He flinched, and hurriedly buries his face into his brother’s shoulder.

“There, there, Sans,” Papyrus murmurs, rubbing more of those supposedly soothing circles. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve already forgiven you.”

After a while, Sans nods.

“Yeah,” he says, short enough that he barely needs to breathe. He pulls back, just as much as Papyrus allowed him to. “Kay.”

Papyrus lets go, grinning at him, and affectionately patting the top of his skull. Somehow, Sans is smiling up at him—but he doesn’t really feel it. He doesn’t really know if he feels anything. But at least Papyrus is grinning, right? Isn’t that what matters?

_He’s still going to die. It’s still going to reset._

Chara drags the tip of their thumb across their neck, smiling and alit with rosy, malicious vibrancy.

“Well,” Papyrus clears his throat, finally, before going on, looking around with a grimace. “We should head home, brother. Since you’ve done so well, we can give some nice cream on the way back!!”

Sans’s gaze flickered back to him after seeming unseeingly. “No,” he says, almost quickly. “Can we just head straight home?”

“Alright!” Papyrus, at least, didn’t see a problem with that. Or he just wasn’t in any mood to be anything less than enthusiastically compliant. Though he soon hesitated, and that grin on his features cracked, just a bit. “Sans, should I...?”

“I’ll catch up,” Sans says. “Probably.”

“Nyeh?” Papyrus blinked once in surprise and soon frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Probably,” Sans repeats.

Papyrus tilts his head but finally just nods.

“That session lasted longer than I expected it to—but a lot of things happened that I didn’t, well, expect at all...” Papyrus kept his tone light as he turned and headed on up ahead. “But you know, Sans, you really SHOULD join my training sessions with Undyne! I think she’d know EXACTLY what to do when—well! I mean!!”

Sans had started tuning him out as he kept on babbling. Instead, he couldn’t help but look all around, truly taking in the damages.

Unsurprisingly, the clearing was a mess. Patches and streaks of black from the canon’s blasts, wrecked trees and rocks, and snow kicked up in so many places that hadn’t been fired on. Sans almost didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t anything like the corridor after a fight.

Then again, he was aware of each and every thing that happened in those fights. Like which columns were broken by blasts and which were broken by the kid’s body being slammed into them. If the kid let him, he’d be able to recreate the scenes in at least a couple of the timelines. He wondered if they would.

It wouldn’t matter either way—what with the kid resetting so that the corridor would revert to its pristine condition beforehand each and every time, regardless of how much of it was wrecked. That’d be the case here, too. Real convenient, because it’d be awkward as hell explaining this to the other sentries.

...This too, will be reset as though nothing ever happened here.

As though nothing ever happened.

In that moment, Sans’s gaze snapped back ahead, to Papyrus and he almost called after him. He almost—

Sans paused.

_(Here’s a secret.)_

“I just wish...” Papyrus paused upon hearing the muted thud behind him. He immediately spun around, and Sans was face-down in the snow. Of course, he rushed back, calling his brother’s name in fear, in worry—“ _SANS_!!”

_(It’s just another secret.)_

“Now is NOT the time to sleep, Sans!!” His bark lacks the usual bite. Too much desperation. Too much panic. Papyrus is already pulling Sans up and dusting off all the snow in quick, jerky motions. Sans’s unresponsiveness from the lack of verbal reply to slack, empty sockets, makes his voice raise, “ ** _SANS_**! Don’t tell me you—you actually _overdid_ it—!”

Lights flicker into Sans’s gaze, and it meets Papyrus’s steadily. His smile twitched, just a bit.

“Uh,” Tilting his head, both his gaze and grin seemed to strain. “I...might’ve? Probably?”

Papyrus frowned, but there was no hiding the slightest hint of relief before his bro just sighed, shaking his head.

“You really should be more careful. And I really shouldn’t be encouraging laziness, but—!” Without missing a beat, Papyrus scooped him up with a laugh. “You know—I think you actually deserve a break for once, Sans! So I’ll carry you back! And you can rest up more at home, and...!”

“And...?” Sans echoes, muffled against his bro’s shoulder.

“And, uh...” Papyrus hesitates, cradling his brother’s skull and patting it uncertainly. “Sans... We... We really need to talk about what happened.”

Sans just yawns. “Okay.”

“I mean it!” Papyrus insists. “What happened to you back there—it was so much like one of your nightmares, Sans, but...worse. Much, much worse.”

“Huh...” That’s a pretty accurate description, honestly.

**_“Repeating timelines do feel like dreams, don’t they?”_** Chara asks, and suddenly he stiffens.

“I know you don’t like talking about them—and I know they’re just nightmares...” Papyrus is walking home as he talks. Maybe it’s to help him calm himself down. “But, still, if they truly trouble you, Sans...”

It didn’t matter. It didn’t _really_ matter.

...This didn’t matter, either.

“I, your very reliable and very COOL brother will help you through them! You can COUNT on me, Sans! You... You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do,” Sans mumbles, words and tones dragging just a bit. “How could I _forget_ that?”

“A fair question! How COULD you ever forget something like that?!”

Sans chuckles. But the genuine amusement doesn’t last for very long.

“I... I’m so tired, Paps. I’m just...so tired...”

“Urgh, of _course_ you are, little lazybones,” Papyrus said, groaning. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep yet.”

Yeah, wasn’t that a wonder? Then again, it’s been a while since he’s actually slept. He wonders if he still remembers what that’s like. He’s almost too tired to recall.

Funny, that. Hilarious.

“Sans, is it alright to ask what exactly happened? Or...are you too tired?”

He’s so tired.

God, he’s so, so tired.

“Ah, got’cha. But you can’t dodge this issue forever, dear brother.”

**_You can’t dodge forever._ **

Sans shuts his eye sockets tight with a grimace.

* * *

When they get back, Papyrus is quick and for the most part efficient in making things comfortable. Sans barely has to blink twice before he finds himself wrapped up in more blankets than he knows what to do with...and with a steamed cup of milk in his hands.

“Though maybe tea would be better?” Papyrus wonders aloud as he observes one of the boxes. “Undyne said THAT was good for nerves, too...”

Sans, upon recognizing the tell-tale golden flower sticker on said box, stilled for a bit before laughing it off. “Nah, the milk’s fine. Better for the bones, ya know?”

“I DO know!!” Papyrus chirped back matter-of-factly. “But you could always have both, Sans!”

“...Not...really...” Sans knows him well enough to recognize this line of logic. “I could burn my non-existent stomach if I have too many hot drinks.”

“I don’t want that! BUT THAT SAID—!” With a stomp of his foot, Papyrus exclaimed sternly, “Considering this tea was a gift, you really SHOULD finish it someday!”

Sans’s gaze flickered, almost becoming half-lidded, only vaguely recalling King Asgore offering him that tea, and nodded without comment.

“So,” Papyrus says, seating himself by his brother. “Sans.”

Sans blew off the steam of his drink before returning, “Papyrus.”

Silence. Papyrus was fiddling with the red gloves on his hands. Come to think of it, Sans should probably remove his so that they don’t get stained. But they’re just as white as the milk so he wonders if he should even bother—

...well. It doesn’t really matter either way, does it? Kid’s gonna reset regardless.

_What matters?_

**_“Sans, what’s the point?”_ **

“Sans, what happened?”

Ah, Paps was asking him in that quiet, serious tone of voice. How _grave_.

Sans couldn’t help but laugh.

“Sans!” Papyrus admonishes. “Be SERIOUS about this!!”

“Paps,” Sans sighs, giving him a quick, easy smile. “You saw what happened, right? Do you really need me to explain it?”

“YES, I do!” Papyrus exclaimed, exasperated. “OTHERWISE, I wouldn’t have ASKED!!”

“Well,” Sans sipped at his mug. He doesn’t feel any of the drink’s warmth. “There’s really nothing to say. Sorry, bro.”

“Urgh!” Papyrus folded his arms tightly, gritting his teeth before pausing, and then asking, “Why would you say that? Are you telling me that it’s nothing?”

“More or less,” he admits. Because that much is definitely true.

“You were distant this morning—and then asked if we could train together. And you said something weird—and then you kept saying _weird_ things.” Papyrus seemed to get more and more agitated. “And I think that... The more you looked at me, the less you seemed to _see_ me.”

_...How many times have I stumbled across your remains?_ Sans couldn’t help but wonder about that. Under his dulled stare, the surface of the steamed milk swirled around. _It all blurs together. Everything just...blurs together._

And yet, when his gaze flickered upwards, Chara’s smile never looked less clear. And he squeezed his eye sockets tight.

“SANS!!”

A sudden shout. Somehow, he didn’t startle. He just perked right back up, and blankly met his bro’s stare.

“ _This_ is what I’m talking about!” Papyrus exclaimed. “Sans, it’s just not normal for you to space out like that so often!”

_Did you know? Time is arbitrary. Space is nothing._

“So I’ve been a little out of it lately,” Sans muttered, sipping at the mug again before, “That’s hardly abnormal, Paps.”

“It’s not JUST that!!”

“Yeah,” Sans sighs, making Papyrus immediately go silent. “I know. I lost control of myself back there.”

“Well! Yes...” Papyrus nods jerkily. “Yes! But...also no... I don’t know how to explain it... But!! It was—I’ve never seen you like that before!” Then, “And yet... You seemed really accustomed to...utilizing your magic like that. Even the special blasters...! You’re usually so sparing with those! With good reason, too! Those take up a great deal of magic!!”

_It’s amazing how all out a guy can go when he has nothing to lose._

“As proud as I’d normally be at your exponential improvement of your magic-based endurance since last time—Sans, so much of it just doesn’t make _sense_. Why would you completely overdo it like that?” Papyrus clenched his gloved hands into fists, tensing up before just as quickly snapping out of it and resuming with, “That’s just so...unlike you. It’s completely unlike you. We were just _training_.”

“Yeah...” Sans hums. “It was just training, huh?”

_You weren’t trying to kill me. You’d never do that._

Hmm.

_...hell, you wouldn’t even go all out when I kept telling you to..._

And wasn’t that—maybe just a little— _disappointing_? And maybe, well more like definitely, at the time, he thought of why that just seemed so...pointless. Go all out, completely give in—both mattered about the same in a world that’d just repeat without reprieve.

But Papyrus wouldn’t understand anything like that.

**_“But_ you _would,”_** Chara says. They’re smiling from ear to ear.

Sans simply shakes his head, and downs the rest of the drink. He doesn’t even feel a semblance of a burn.

Come to think of it, he’s yet to work on the machine this timeline and—his gaze flickers to the clock, and...

“Let me refill that.” Papyrus had already taken his mug. He was a bit fidgety but was quick to head to the kitchen to do what he’d said he’d do. Always so reliable, his bro.

...and speaking of that...

“Hey,” Sans says, dully staring at both the clock and nothing in particular. “Shouldn’t you be heading for your shift sometime soon, bro?”

“...Is it time already?!”

“...Yeah...” His thumb rubs at his wrist from underneath his mitten. He’s popping joints left and right, and feels no less stiff. “At least, it’s around the time you usually leave.”

“Then it’s not ACTUALLY the time!” Papyrus exclaimed. “I always leave a bit early, Sans! You know that!”

“Does that make a difference?” Sans asks dully.

“About ten to twenty minutes, yes! You should know your math!”

“That’s not what I meant, but,” he chuckles, low and dry, “Man, you know numbers—never know when to _count_ on them.”

“You can _always_ count on numbers,” Papyrus corrects him, quickly and snappily before pausing. “You messed up the joke.”

“It wasn’t a very good one anyway,” he said simply, albeit quicker than he probably should have if he wanted to play it as casual as possible. “Don’t, uh, worry about it, bro.”

“Mm...” Welp; that was a worried sound.

“Uh, Paps...”

Papyrus doesn’t answer—he just refills the mug before pacing back to the living room and setting it on the table. He soon sighs.

“Perhaps,” he says. “I should get going after all.”

Sans blinks once.

“O-Of course, this conversation is FAR from OVER!!” Papyrus hurriedly shouts, straightening up and folding his arms tight. “Once I get back, we have a LOT more talking to do, Sans!!”

“...Huh...”

“I-I just need time to come up with what to say! That’s it! I’m not putting something this important off! Not at all!!”

Sans can’t help but laugh.

“Alright,” he says, and chuckles again. “ _Alright_. I’m uh, probably staying in today.”

“That would be for the best,” Papyrus agrees but quickly backpedals. “But you SHOULDN’T make this a habit, Sans! Just—you overdid it! A different from usual situation calls for a different from usual response!!”

“Understood.”

“Good!” Papyrus says, but then hesitates for but a moment. “A... Also!!”

“I’ll call if I need anything,” Sans recites it more than he says it. “See you later, Paps.”

Papyrus nods firmly, saying just as fervently, “We’ll talk later—see you later, Sans,”

And it’s kind of funny because Papyrus doesn’t really sound as assured in that as he would want to be—but it matters about the same. Papyrus shuts the door behind him, Sans keeps on smiling, and he wraps the blanket tighter around himself.

And all the same, it’s all going to be reset.

**_“Right?”_** Chara asks across from him, pressing their elbows into the table with their palms against their cheeks and the widest grin. **_“That’s why you don’t feel anything for this, right?”_**

Without missing a beat, Sans downs the cup in one go. He still doesn’t feel anything, not even a burn—but that doesn’t _mean_ anything.

**_“None of this really means anything,”_** Chara says lightly, pleasantly. **_“Your poor brother doesn’t understand that—but you do. As do I.”_**

Sans shuts his eyes, and tries to will them out for once.

**_“We understand each other, don’t we, Sans?”_ **

* * *

Here’s a secret. It’s just another secret. Sans has many of these—some even from himself. Is this one of those? Well— _well_.

Well.

When Sans turned back to his brother, to that red scarf flapping in the wind and to his brother’s back as he was walking away, Sans notes all the scuffs and cracks in his battle body—how some of those crevices were wide and deep enough to show slivers of bone.

Papyrus is really strong—real sturdy—but of course, there’s only so much he can take. Right now, he could only take just a little bit more—and just a little bit more after that, _well_ —

Sans thinks.

For a moment, he thinks about how it’d feel to fit another bone into that widest crack of his brother’s armor and another and another until it was just a _little_ over too much. Maybe he’d wedge more bones into all the other cracks. Maybe all at once. Right then. Right _there_.

He’d have to dig them in deep. He wonders how deep. He wonders.

Then Sans crumbles into the snow.

Papyrus doesn’t even hesitate in rushing back to pick him up. It’d be so easy to unleash a blaster on them both in that moment. It’d be so easy to wedge in those bones. Right here, right now.

It’s another secret to pile on all his others. Another to shove back in places so deep and so dark that they’re easier to refuse. Except, the kid, who just _loved_ lurking back there, ended up illuminating those secrets with that smile of theirs.

He’d just refuse them too.

**_“But for how much longer?”_** they ask, turning back to him with wide, curious crimson eyes.

He doesn’t want to think about that at all. So he’ll refuse that, too.

He...has to.

* * *

Sans doesn’t work on the machine at all in that timeline.

The fight with Chara goes about the same as it always does.

* * *

The red that seeps through his coat almost looks like rust—especially compared to Papyrus’s scarf. At least the ends don’t stick to the gash—at least it isn’t getting that stained. It’s all over his glove from where his hand is pressed against where the knife dug in deepest. It’s much redder against white, but comparatively, it’s still dull.

“Welp,” Sans sucks in his breath, and laughs. “I... I’m going to Grillby’s.”

He takes a shaky step forward—but he doesn’t stumble anymore. Honestly, he’s only shaky because Papyrus’s scarf shifts oh so slightly against the edge of his wound. Dust sticks, so does that rust-red. It’s like paint. Dust-clumped paint stuck to his brother’s scarf.

“Ah, Sans,”

He doesn’t register that voice. It’s so much easier to ignore here, where everything resounds in the hallway, not just inside his skull.

“Sans, _wait_.”

Though if he did register their voice—he would have thought about how weird it was for them to say something like that. But he wouldn’t have really cared. He sure as hell doesn’t care now. It doesn’t matter—it just didn’t—

Chara grabs his arm. Chara pulls him back.

He catches a flash of red and gray—and the unmistakable sheen of their knife.

There’s not much an already dying monster can do to defend themselves. Because it no longer _mattered_ what they could and couldn’t to. They’d die anyway.

It’d reset anyway.

Sans flinches back, crumbles a bit more, and—

Chara’s knife cuts seamlessly through the scarf, and when Chara releases him, he topples backwards, balance lost.

He’s breathing heavily. Red is still gushing from the gash—and he feels himself falling apart.

He doesn’t think—he can’t— _but_ —

“There,” Chara says and giggles, smiling down at him. “Now you don’t look like you’re suffocating.”

His initial response is almost relief that it’s over. It really hits him that this timeline is over and he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore because it’s done and—

And Papyrus’s scarf has been sliced into two. His brother’s scarf has been _sliced into two_.

Sans chokes. It could have been on his own dust.

It’s a good thing because otherwise he’d scream.

Chara’s already turned away— _come to think of it, hadn’t their expression at the time been peculiar?_ —and over their shoulder, they tell him, “I’ll see you later, Sans. _Later_.”

It’s a good thing he dies not too long after that.

It’s a good thing because then he doesn’t feel _anything_ anymore, even after he wakes. It didn’t matter anymore—and it never did in the first place.

Sans listens to Papyrus downstairs and throws an arm over his eye sockets.

...He wonders if he should’ve saved the kid the trouble.


	11. The Golden Garden of Everything I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are.
> 
> (...Part 1.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE THERE WAS A TWO-MONTH WAIT BETWEEN CHAPTER 9 AND 10 AND NOW A THREE MONTH WAIT BETWEEN 10 AND THIS ONE. Well, actually, I can. Chapter 10 and this one were...excessively hard to work with. And I don't have a beta you see... ;;
> 
> What's worse is I had to split what would've been Chapter 11 into two parts because... It was like, 19K. That's too much for one chapter. I refuse. Though I still do categorize both parts as..."one chapter" hence the I in this chapter title. On the bright side, that means the next chapter's written already and I just need to edit it. But I'm gonna be crazy busy with gifts and exchanges, so Chapter 13's probably going to be another long wait. I'm sorry. ;;
> 
> I really hope no one's forgotten about this fic... Uuu... I know I've been slacking off, but I swear this fic is important to me and that I'm gonna do my best to finish it!! We're at 100K! We're almost at the end of this godforsaken not actually a mini-arc! That's noteworthy, right?!
> 
> ...Sorry...again...for the long wait...again. Because the next chapter just needs to be edited, reasonably speaking, there should not be a four month wait. Yeah.
> 
> Uh...please enjoy part 1 of Chapter he11. :D

The king’s garden is in full bloom today. Sans, leaning against the elegant wooden doors, watches as Asgore tends to it as tenderly as he always had. How he hums, how he waters and oh so gently sprinkles healing magic on the flowers that are faded in color.

The king is humming that same, familiar melody Sans might’ve heard from a music box. Light catches on the vibrant yellow of many flower petals. Sans feels his sockets droop a bit—it wouldn’t be the first time he fell asleep like this, and Asgore was always so content to just let him sleep, regardless of how inconvenient it had to be—and at that thought, he sighs but forces his sockets open enough that he’s at least mildly alert.

But there’s no denying how relaxing this atmosphere is—it’s almost idyllic. Asgore wipes off his brow with a low, contented sigh of his own. His back was still to Sans, but it was so easy to picture the relaxed, serene smile that had to be on the king’s face at that moment.

He held his watering can high, light catching on the metal and falling droplets briefly glimmering as the tool dipped low. Sans thought of somewhere where it was raining—if it ever rained so lightly on the surface.

It probably did, somewhere.

He also couldn’t help but think of the Ursa Major and Ursa Minor in his constellation book. Because. When he described it to Asgore, the king had called them watering cans with a low rumbled laugh. Papyrus thought they looked like dry measuring cups.

When Sans asked how they looked in person, Asgore said that—they looked so much bigger, so much grander than the pictures suggested. They almost seemingly took up the whole sky, depending on where one was, but there were still so many, many more constellations than just those two. There were so many stars in the sky, even beyond those that could be seen on the surface if the texts he read were any indication.

All unreachable, in so many ways, unlike these flowers—these golden, vibrant flowers in a room filtered with the closest thing they had to sunlight.

Compared to how he imagined stars, these flowers really were something else. They were—

“Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Sans snapped to attention. Asgore was smiling softly toward him, chuckling warmly.

“These flowers,” he said, gesturing towards them with an almost elegant sweep of his paw. “They’re quite beautiful, aren’t they, Sans?”

“Heh,” Sans laughs a bit too, shrugging. “They’re something, alright. That said, trying to get through here without stepping on one must be pretty difficult. But,” He rolls his eye sockets, snickering at the thought. “The idea of someone having to precariously prance through this garden to avoid harming these pretty petals has got to be the sight of some comedy _gold_.”

Asgore does laugh—but Sans doubts he picked up on the pun. He’s a little put out by that—but a smile’s a smile. He appreciates that smile, at least. For what it’s worth, it’s a good smile.

Other people would bend over backwards for such a thing.

“Y’know, your highness,” Sans says, shuffling his hands into his pockets and pushing himself from the door. “These flowers grow in the garbage dump over at Waterfall, too.”

“Oh, do they?” Asgore asks, both curious and tickled. “Golly, I wonder how they got there!”

“Who knows? One of the Underground’s many mysteries.” Sans shrugs, and widens his grin. “Heh, well—it’s actually not such a bad place for them. Because... They might be just the sight you need—when you’re _down in the dumps_.”

Asgore went still, went silent for just a second—but muffled a snort into his paw that was considerably graceless and unbefitting of His Royal Majesty if it were anyone but _King Fluffyboy_.

“Heh.” Sans rubs at the back of his skull, bowing respectfully for what it was worth. “They really do thrive even down there. That’s pretty impressive. But not all flowers on the surface are quite so...resilient, right, your highness?”

“I’m afraid not,” Asgore sighed, wiping a tear from his eye. And just like that, he’s back to wistful and somewhat melancholy as he goes on, “Sadly, flowers are generally quite fragile—and as such, they require a great deal of nurturing and care in order to bloom at their fullest. Or to bloom at all, I believe.”

_Fragile, huh._ Sans’s sockets narrowed slightly on how Asgore carefully handled even the well-worn, well-used watering can in his large hands. He thought of other flowers blossoming under such a careful touch—and then of six coffins.

And Asgore had never been anything less than careful with _him_ , either.

_Huh._

“Sans,” King Asgore speaks up suddenly, and he snaps to attention as he should. He’s more relaxed than rigid, smile calm and unassuming as Asgore regards him kindly, and asks, “Would you like to take some of these flowers home? The last ones I’ve given you have likely wilted by now.”

“Oh, yeah, uh, they have.” Even though Papyrus took such good care of them. Papyrus sometimes seemed so emotional over them for whatever reason. Sans wondered if that’d get even worse if his bro actually knew the direct source of those flowers. “It happens—it’s uh, inevitable. But for what it’s worth, they really do spruce up the place when they’re not wilted.”

“Oh, yes. They really do,” Asgore agrees. Of course he does—he always keeps his own vase of golden flowers on the table of his home. And they add so much _life_ to the place. King Asgore soon falters, reflecting likely of the same thing Sans is thinking of, and he chuckles a bit ruefully. “So, ah, how many would you like, Sans? I might be able to get a larger vase than usual, but... Oh...”

Realizing, eyes going down worriedly at Sans’s _frail_ frame. “I probably shouldn’t overdo it. Or I could have them delivered instead, if you like?”

“My bro might get the wrong idea,” Sans says with another casual shrug. “But well, I do like having extra potential weight off my shoulders. I’m the kind of guy who likes _carrying on_ easily and idly, you know—a guy who’s more on the _lackadaisi_ cal side, if you prefer, your highness.”

He pauses for a moment, humming with a thoughtful hold on his chin. “That was either a real stretch or really clever. I can’t tell. It all, uh, blurs together.”

Asgore does chuckle at that, for what it’s worth. It’s just—distantly, wistfully. Sadly. Jeez.

“I apologize,” he says and then, “I cannot tell either. But I’m sure my wife would have been delighted all the same.”

Aw, jeez.

“Heh... Haha... Really?”

Asgore nods simply. Sans’s smile strains.

Aw, _jeez_.

“Fifteen.”

“Ah, I beg your pardon?” The king blinks at him curiously, clearly confused by the sudden change in subject. That’s fine. This is preferable.

“Fifteen, I think, is uh, a good number of flowers to have.” It’s a good thing skeletons don’t sweat very often, though Sans has to strain himself a bit in keeping his bones from rattling. In a room like this, the sound would echo and well, he’d rather not deal with King Asgore worrying over him for that. “It’s a pretty good number in general, I think. Manageable, like most multiples of five.”

“I see,” Asgore mused, rubbing at his beard. He seemed mildly amused. Better. That’s much better. “Well, then, fifteen it is.”

* * *

“Y’ello?”

“S-Sans?” Shuffling, almost scrambling. “ _Sans_! Oh... Oh thank god... T-Thank god...”

Sans listens with a dull expression as she bursts into tears on the other end.

“I thought... I-I thought...”

He hadn’t approached her in this timeline. And he ignores any and all calls he gets while in the lab. He’s just waiting in the Judgment Hall—a little ahead of schedule—and taking her call this time because he might as well.

“I-I thought...!” Alphys sputters, her breath hitching on a sob. “Where are you right now?! Y-You... L-Listen, the human... They... They should be on their way to the castle right now... They just got past Hotland... Sans, if you’re in New Home, you need to get to King Asgore...!”

Sans has his back to the double doors right now.

“I-If you’re not...” Alphys’s voice drops to a whisper. “Please...come here right away. I-I... I need to see you, Sans. Please... P- _Please_ , Sans...”

“It’ll be fine, Alph,” he says, blankly. “It’ll all be fine.”

She laughs, and the sound is bitter and cold. He would’ve thought it was his own if not for the lilt of her voice.

“How?” she asks, and almost screams, “H- _How_?!”

“Kid’s gonna show up in a bit,” Sans tells her. “After that, it’ll be all over.”

“Wait,” Alphys says, quickly and panicked. “ _Wait_ , Sans, you aren’t...!”

“Wonder how long it’ll take this time,” he muses, not exactly to her, but not exactly to himself, either. “Do you think it’ll take minutes? Hours? Nah, it’s probably not going to take hours. Probably.”

“Sans, no! Stop! That’s... That’s unnecessary!! If you’re in New Home, just GET to King Asgore!!”

...Here’s the thing.

“O-Once he knows, he’ll... He’ll absorb the SOULs...! A-And... And...”

Sans has known Asgore for years.

Sans has worked under King Fluffyboy, His Royal Highness, King Asgore for long enough that he’d like to think he knows the guy pretty well.

“Asgore...will stop them... H-He’ll stop them...”

He’s known since day one that the king will never absorb those kids’ souls. Killing them is one thing—but to take the essence of one’s being, to manipulate it to your own means... To use someone like that—all Sans can think about is how much those kids would probably be screaming non-stop.

To handle _that_ on top of your own mental hang-ups...

Not to mention that there are a couple of other things.

“He’ll stop them, so... Please... Please, Sans...”

In Waterfall, there’s an image on one of the walls that’s faded with age. The creature depicted is...more than a little unsettling when closely observed.

In New Home, the king keeps an old photograph of him and his family. Even if only the prince’s expression can be seen, it’s easy to tell that everyone’s smiling.

“D-Don’t... Don’t...”

The kid should be here any minute now.

“See you later, Alphys. Take care. Love ya.”

“W-WAIT, **_NO_** —!!”

Sans hangs up.

* * *

There are timelines where he comes into the lab, sits down before the machine and stares and stares until it’s about time for him to teleport to the Judgment Hall. Chara smiles and smiles, and him asking Papyrus what he wants sounds more and more like a dull drone. A broken record stuck on repeat.

It’s difficult to get back into something once the habit is broken.

Sans isn’t sure when the last timeline he worked on the machine was. But really it’s not like he’s that much closer to fixing it—to changing anything.

Hell, Chara’s smile’s changed since he stopped talking to them. It’s gotten surprisingly...pitiful. The kid looked like they were on the verge of outright pleading—just because of silence. Just because he refused them the satisfaction of a verbal response to their messed up prattling.

Funny, that. They really were starting to look more and more like some sad kid. The former kid prince was that way too, sometimes. Those two were similar in many ways—came with being largely the same in terms of situation and being well, family.

After all, he and _Papyrus_ —

...Sans stopped thinking. He just kept on blankly staring at the machine before him. Of course, his thoughts aren’t still for long, or they aren’t, at least, still for as long as he’d like.

Papyrus.

_Papyrus._

There’s nothing but emptiness and broken machinery in this lab. Well, there are papers. A lot of papers. Photographs. A lot of photographs. Drawings, too. Really, really bad drawings.

At some point, they meant something to him. But, somewhere along the way, he just...

_...he just..._

He’s lost track of time.

He needs to meet up with that kid again pretty soon.

He didn’t get any progress made. Maybe next time.

**_“...next time...”_** Chara sighs, tilting their head from one side to the other, rolling the words like a pair of dice. **_“Or hell, maybe the time after that? Or after that? Does it_ really _matter?”_**

* * *

It doesn’t matter at all.

* * *

It doesn’t matter.

* * *

It doesn’t.

* * *

There are certain roles that everyone slips into with every timeline, without fail. Sans is no different. Chara is no different. It’s just a small part of why they keep meeting up like this even as Sans meets their smile with nothing but empty dullness.

“Sans,” they start to say, smile twitching at its corners as they almost take a step forward. They stop, probably knowing that once they do, he’s going to throw them into a column. Instead of that happening, they just laugh, just a little. “You’re really upset with me, aren’t you?”

There’s really nothing to say to that. He’s not even going to bother. He wouldn’t even if he allowed it.

“Ah, well, as I said, that’s understandable,” Chara says, and they laugh again. Just a little. Just a little too light. “As I said... You can be quiet for as long as you want... As I said... It’s...okay... It’s okay... It’s just _fine_.”

They were still grinning, but they were gritting their teeth.

“I’m not the only one that’s lonely, am I?”

Sans shifts. His neck itches—and at that moment, he can’t remember if he’s wearing his brother’s scarf or not. It all blends together. It doesn’t matter, anyway.

He almost takes a step forward so that the kid’s in range, but he doesn’t.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Chara asks, and again, their hand is clenched around that locket. Their smile is strained. He feels like he’s looking into a mirror, especially as the kid repeats, pitch raising, “ _Isn’t_ it?”

He doesn’t answer.

“That look on your face...” Chara begins, edge of their smile twitching. And then, it was like someone flicked off all the lights. “You know, Sans. I can help you if you’d just let me. We can help each other. I know it.”

He almost laughs—instead, he holds his breath. He wondered what the purpose of doing that even was. _Skeletons don’t have lungs._

“You really are stubborn,” they laugh, parts fond and parts aggravated. “I admire you, I really do. You’re taking much, much more time than I expected. But, well, that’s the joy of having nothing but time, right? And, y’know, I want you to talk to me again so badly that—I can’t even take it!”

In that next second, they lurched forward. Sans immediately greeted them with a blast of magic.

* * *

“You _need_ to talk to me, Sans,” Chara insists. “I’m the only one you can talk to. It’s no good to keep these emotions bottled up.”

The kid rolls out of the way of bones springing up from the ground, and they’re extra quick to jump out of the way of the blasts. It’s almost like routine.

“Sans,” they sigh, and they shift from one foot to the other. “Sans, Sans... I’m seriously starting to worry about you. Talk to me. Please. I can help you.”

That’s a real laugh. He very nearly scoffs.

They perk up. “Oh?”

It’s almost a moment.

It passes.

He doesn’t kill them next turn, but he’s pretty damn close.

He probably could have dodged their killing strike that comes not too long after, but, well, it hurts but—it’s whatever.

Chara has a weird look on their face. He’s running his mouth on the usual question.

“Papyrus, you want anything?”

But, honestly, as he pulls himself away, it’s _that face_ that niggles at him as he crumbles to dust.

* * *

The machine is a mess. His notes are a mess. Everything’s a mess.

Well. It’s actually all pretty orderly, especially by his standards.

It...just looks like a mess.

It’s a mess.

Does it really matter?

**_“Just give up.”_** It’s not the kid’s voice this time. Somewhere in this emptiness, there’s a deep, burrowing chill. Somewhere, there’s a subtle shift that goes overlooked and swallowed up.  **_“You’re good at that, aren’t you?”_**

There’s no point. He should just give up. He’ll never see ‘em again. Why even try?

...This isn’t the time for that.

Sans sighs, and peels off his gloves, scraping hard against the bone of his carpals and metacarpals and not feeling a thing.

Despite that, he really doesn’t make much if any progress in this particular timeline either.

* * *

It’s funny how close he gets. He’s right in front of the entrance to the Royal Labs, standing just out of reach of where the automatic doors would go off. The heat is stifling for monsters with fur, and especially monsters in layers, but Sans doesn’t really feel it.

He just stands and stares—if he _really_ wanted to be inside those labs, he would’ve just teleported inside, manners and Alphys’s preferences be damned. He knows this. If he cared enough, he would have walked in by now.

Hell, it’s not like he doesn’t know how Alphys would react when he’s _seen_ how she’d react more than enough **_t i m e s_** —

What was he here for? There’s really no point. But that he’s there—contemplating going inside and seeing his old friend when he knows there’s no point much less any necessity—shouldn’t that mean something?

It should. His brother would think that it did. Maybe Alphys would, too.

Alphys might just be understanding to the point where she won’t be too off-put by how he’s just been standing there, staring, like a creepy weirdo, a creepier weirder weirdo than usual. She’s probably been there, done that. She probably wouldn’t recommend it. She’d just invite him inside, maybe offer him some of those cheap, crappy noodles in a cup, or... Hey, how about one of those trashy cartoons—oh wait, no, the _historical dramas_. Either way, it’ll be an entertaining sit.

It sounded easy. This kind of thing normally _was_ easy. Part of life, part of being pals.

He had taken it for granted. He took a lot of things for granted. He knows he did.

Alphys was a good friend. She really was.

And, at some point... Well.

...Well...

* * *

Here’s a funny secret.

He used to be happy to the point where that happiness didn’t really _mean_ anything. It just _was_ , like routine, like days that just blurred together. He gave it the same amount of consideration he would morning exercises and midnight snacks and just—took it for granted. He was so happy he didn’t even _feel_ happy.

It’s funny, how important something seems after it’s been lost.

But once it returns, it’s so easy to fall back into dull-minded habits. It’s so easy to just...forget what a problem something used to be. It’s easy to return to complacency, especially in a world as dark as theirs—especially in such a dire situation that could so easily drive people to their edge.

Even after things changed irretrievably, he could still enjoy things. Smiles and jokes were in his nature, in his bones, really—and, honestly, it wouldn’t have been _hard_ to be happy. He probably _was_ happy and just didn’t realize it at the time. Sounds about right.

He didn’t mind these days being different than before, because they were fine enough on their own. It wouldn’t have been hard to be happy in these times, despite everything, especially as they lasted like before. It would’ve been so easy to slip back into that careless, carefree drifting through the days, where time returned to a repetitive, easy lull.

...It’s funny how things turn out.

It’s hilarious when that repetition turns out to be literal. It’s hysterical to think that, _yeah_ , that’s right, this _doesn’t_ really matter—none of it **_really matters_**. So there’s nothing wrong with taking it all for granted at _all_.

And if the situation is, in fact, a little disagreeable, he can just take it in stride—because that’s all a guy can do when he has no control over the situation. He can learn to just be fine with it. And he would’ve been fine—it would’ve all been _fine_.

He could’ve been fine, if not for the kid.

* * *

 

_Except he knows that isn’t really true._

It shouldn’t be surprising that he isn’t fine with nothing mattering. He just would’ve liked to ignore that blunt little tidbit. Fake it till you make it—something Mettaton would say, more like sing dramatically, to his workers and that included him. He’d laugh it off, and get Mettaton’s dazzling approval in response. It could’ve been easy—and he had plenty of practice making it _easy_.

It’s beyond frustrating to have all that work for naught because of a kid or two. It’s one thing to take happiness for granted—that’s _easy_.

It’s something else to take misery for granted, too. It’s something else when even despair just feels like a dreary, empty thing. Maybe that’s the pinnacle of it? Some people would probably feel that way.

But he can’t help but think—when being miserable means about the same as being happy...

What, exactly, is a guy supposed to do?

Papyrus would work harder for those happier days, as would Undyne, and Alphys, perhaps... Oh, _Alphys_.

Alphys would handle things best she could up until the point she couldn’t.

Meanwhile all he’s ever been is complacent. Go with the flow, drift day to day—after all, nothing really mattered, right?

Even fighting the kid isn’t going to amount to anything now. Whether he’ll win or lose—and it’s always lose, he’ll always, always, always lose—the result will be the same. So why try? Why even show up?

There’s no real point pondering this either when he’s been over this before too.

_Hilarious_. It’s so hilarious that he might just go from cracking up to just shattering into little particles of dust.

* * *

He doesn’t see Alphys after all. He doesn’t even take her calls that time.

He doesn’t say anything at all in the fight with the actual kid. Nothing at all, not even a grunt when he’s hurt—and he doesn’t even give Papyrus the usual question. He just drags himself off to die.

He’s not really thinking about it, but—the way Chara looks at him then... It’s...something else.

* * *

“Of course, I know I’ll succeed as someone as great as me is always guaranteed to do, but—! Still...!”

He’s not really expecting anything—but somehow he already knows in his bones how this is going to go.

“You do believe in me, right? Sans?”

Still, it’s not very often Papyrus looks so uncertain. So of course he smiles, of course he just says what any guy with a brother as cool as this guy would say.

“Why wouldn’t I?” And, a bit more earnestly, he adds, “If anyone can guide that human, it’s you.”

Papyrus lights up, and pulls him into a tight hug. It’s both in part as a show of gratitude and further assurance.

“Well!” Papyrus chirps, patting his skull fondly as always before pulling back. “I’ll see you later then, Sans!”

Sans, grinning, casually waves him off. “See you later, Paps.”

To an extent, he meant that last one. He meant it a lot more with each time he had to repeat it over and over and over again.

He even got better at keeping his grin from fading as his bro disappeared from sight.

* * *

Chara, after a few of timelines of his complete silence to not only them but everything else, apparently just decides to only reset their fight a few times. They almost do so pretty quickly before he even has the chance to fully die.

It’s really kind of annoying.

He doesn’t greet them, as per usual, but he’s not looking at them either. He’s just looking down, exhausted. He wonders if he’s really up to fight, and he kind of doubts that he is, but—he still _has_ to, doesn’t he? If he can’t even do something this simple, then he really doesn’t have anything at all.

Sans swallows—and he notes that Chara is just...standing there and staring. Wide-eyed and creepy. Like usual, except they also looked curious and...worried. _Worried_.

He thought of Papyrus. If nothing else, his nonexistent stomach churned at the implication of said thought. At least there was that.

“Sans,” Chara starts, almost **_c a r e f u l l y_** –“That look on your face...”

They smile. They laugh. It’s just for the sake of lightening the mood—there’s an undeniable tenseness in the air that causes that smile to strain a bit.

“My, my, uh,” Chara giggles, almost hysterically, rubbing a little harder than necessary at the back of their neck. Dully, Sans wonders if the dust irritates their skin, and then he just averts his gaze to some far-off corner. Chara goes on. “I have to say... I’m...taken aback. Sans, that’s... That’s the look of someone who’s beyond their limits.”

_You **think**?_ Sans thinks, bitterly and childishly. But those feelings fall apart as quickly as they came. So Sans slumps, just a bit further.

“It’s a beautiful day outside, isn’t it?” Chara asks, looking towards one of the shimmering, stained-glass window. It’s the Delta Rune that catches their eye as their tone drops, little by little, “Birds are singing, flowers are blooming... On days like these... It’s a great time to rest.”

Sans doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even move. He doesn’t even think, really—it’s like talking to an old, worn doll.

“I think we can afford a small break, don’t you?” Chara turns back to him, cheerful and bright, especially in the hallway’s golden light. “Just looking at you tires me out, honestly—so, hey, let’s just...take it easy for now? Sans?”

Sans huffs into his hand—it actually sounds like a laugh. Chara perks up.

“Sans...?”

Sans takes one step forward. Chara stiffens for a bit, picking up on the change of atmosphere.

“Ah, huh? Seriously? You’re not even going to humor me for that offer?”

Another step.

“Goodness, you’re seriously worrying, Sans. You know, I—I am being sincere. Let’s put off fighting; let’s take a break. That’s what you wanted at the beginning, right? I don’t expect you to talk to me, but, I at least would have thought...”

Sans’s arm rose, magic sparking in the air. There was that familiar _DING_ , followed by a grip on their SOUL that seemed so much colder and tighter than ever before.

Chara can’t even get out a name before they’re thrown into the pillar, hard enough to make their head spin. They should have expected this. They should have. _But_.

“Sans,” they groan, and cough out blood. “Sans, _ugh_ —!”

They’re flung into one of the windows next, and then into another column, then the ceiling then the tiles then another window then another column and then another andand _and_ —

Chara’s head is pounding while the rest of their body is pounding. That ache only got worse as they spat out another mouthful of blood, mixed with bile and shattered bits of teeth. They let out another wretched groan, but they ended up laughing, giggling before spitting out another dollop.

“Okay, Sans,” they chirp, grinning up at him with nothing short of fond understanding, even as their smile was bloodied with gaps from missing teeth. “You can just kill me, instead. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Sans flings them into the already cracked window. Their face is nearly carved into from the glass, and they’re sure they very nearly lost an eye. That would have really hurt—but there’s no use thinking about that. Besides, they can’t think past that because they end up nearly blacking out once Sans has thrown them back into the tiles. Somehow, in spite of that, their eyes flicker open, vision swimming, dotted with black and only noting vague colors along with specks of light, fluttering in the air above.

Dust. It’s just dust.

It hurts so much. They can’t help but smile even wider.

“Just one person to take it out on isn’t going to be enough,” Chara whispered, and the edges of their smile twitched just a bit. “But, it’s not like I mind or anything. I just worry that you’ll get bored of it being only me.”

No answer. They wait. They pant, they cough, and they end up rolling onto their side. Sans, from what they can tell through their stinging, blurry vision, is just standing there. It seems like he’s also waiting.

Chara blinks, and they wait. Blood’s dripping down their face, from their mouth and nose. They can’t breathe without tasting blood. It’s not exactly pleasant, but they’re patient. And so they wait and wait.

“Are you just going to let me die via bleeding out?” they ask, with a hint of good-natured teasing. “That’s a heartless way to watch someone go. And it’s terribly boring, too. B-But, if, that’s what you want, Sans...”

They really can’t tell what his expression is right about now. They can barely hear anything above the ringing in their ears. It really is getting quite... _dark_. Maybe they’ll pass out after all, and then...what?

They suppose they’ll just wake up to the twinkling light of their SAVE file and—

“...i...gh...ck...”

Their eyes snap open, wide and alert. Looking up, Chara was fixated on Sans’s unreadable expression, and his tone as he repeats.

“Fight _back_.”

“Sans?” Chara asks, almost croaks with relief as they felt their eyes positively sting.

“I’m _sick_ ,” Sans growls, “of you just letting me kill you. Just fight _back_.”

Chara pushed theirself up, choking out another laugh, voice high-pitched and giddy, “Is that what you _want_ , Sans?”

Sans laughs. He laughs, bitterly and hysterically and harshly enough that he’s rattling all over. He’s really rattling too in a paroxysm that should have been disturbing. It was a _bit_ disturbing. It really was, but—

“For _god’s sake_ , Chara,” he breathes. Chara swallows, and he says, “It’s not like there’s a _choice_.”

“Sure there is,” they say, getting onto their feet, even as they ached and their legs wobbled. “How many times are we going to have this exchange before you understand that, Sans?”

Sans doesn’t say anything. Chara huffs at him—wheezes, really, and then they chuckled.

“At least you’re talking to me,” they muttered. “At least there’s _that_.”

Sans rubs off his mouth—maybe in response to how they’re still drooling blood. Chara could care less about that, really. Right now, they’re focused on Sans.

“It’s irritating though, isn’t it?” they ask, gruff from the injuries but still trying to keep their tone as light as they could. “You’re...stuck like this. Aren’t you irritated?”

Sans huffs, and his smile twists. That sharpened glare says it all.

“I don’t just mean with me,” Chara laughs, straightening their posture even as they stumble a bit in trying to do so. It hurt so much that their eyes were stinging—but they’d be damned if their sight started blurring again at _this_ moment. “I don’t even mean in general—I mean with _them_ , with those... _others_ who just don’t know. It’s irritating, no, downright _infuriating_ , isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sans says, coldly and curtly.

“You’re right; I’m in no way denying that,” Chara says, shaking their head before pausing. “But, well... That is what’s so irritating about it, right? It doesn’t matter—and you can’t help but wonder, why even bother? That said, you still follow along with the script, right? You still do what’s expected of you, yes? Sans—do you really just do all that because you don’t see another option?”

“Well,” he sighs, shrugging. “It’s either this or staying in bed all day. That’d be...irresponsible.”

_That word again. For a lazybones, you care a lot about responsibility, don’t you?_

It’s not like they didn’t understand. They did. No one gets a title like “hope” without a bucketful of responsibility to go with it. That alone could’ve been enough to crush them, they think. Right?

Right. It’s not exactly the same thing for Sans—but all the same, on some level, to some extent, they _understand_.

Nonetheless.

“That’s not exactly enough to keep you going on indefinitely, is it?” Chara asks. “Sans, you’re already running on fumes. At some point, you’re... You’re going to fall apart.”

Sans laughed, breathy and almost hysterical.

“Kid,” he says, and it almost sounds bitterly fond—it’s something that makes Chara flinch especially as Sans goes on, “I’m already in _pieces_. That’s _your_ fault, y’know. You should know better than anyone how timelines just chip away at ya, and, uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a pretty _brittle_ guy.”

“It’s your fault,” they retort, quietly and blankly. “It’s your stubbornness that pushed you this far. I don’t understand why you couldn’t just give in sooner than this. That said,” Chara couldn’t help but smile wide, _emotion_ bubbling up their throat, “There’s still a choice, Sans. It can still get better, you know. Not—not great or anything—but far better than this.”

Sans wasn’t answering. They know him well enough to realize there aren’t enough words to begin to convey what _that_ meant. They might as well keep talking—even if they have to annoyingly repeat theirself—they might as well keep on talking.

“I’m not going to appeal to your curiosity—we both know it’s nothing more than a flimsy excuse. Not to mention, you’ve held out this long for a _reason_ , I think, besides ah, just plain stubbornness,” they say. “You’re a real merciless guy when past your limits—and I’ve really, really irritated you past the point of rationality, right? I’ve made you mad, Sans. I’ve probably made you madder than you’ve ever been.”

“Yep.”

Sans doesn’t miss a beat. He doesn’t look impressed at all. He just stares back at them with a thin glaze of contempt in his gaze. They can’t help but smile back helplessly.

“I don’t blame you, I really don’t,” they say. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, though I’ll—I’ll beg for forgiveness if you really want. I don’t mind! I don’t even care! I just want you to understand, because, once you do...” They trail off, mind going countless ways at once—but all stopping at the same place. _Because_. “There’s nothing else the world can offer you. We can’t leave. We can’t just let go and move on—because we’re trapped, Sans. We’re trapped. What are we _supposed_ to do?”

They may have met his cold stare desperately. Sans’s expression hardly changes.

“Are you tired of fighting me yet, Sans?” They ask. “ _Are you done fighting yet_?”

They cough up blood, and red splatters across the floor. In the next blink, there are bones springing up and impaling their body with that ever familiar _squelch_. But even as they collapse to the floor after those bones disappear, bloodied as they are, dizzy as they are, they still breathe.

“Sans...” they groan, almost gasping out, and it’s hard to see—but they can make out the blue of his coat, even as the white of his bones are cast in so much gold and shadow. “S- _Sans_...”

They’re struggling to push theirself up. They slip on their blood and the clack that is their chin against the tile rings in their ears. It hurts. They probably bit their tongue.

“I...” They choke out. “I’m so tired... I’m just really, really tired, Sans...”

“You and me both,” Sans says. His voice is low. It’s devoid of anything that could be called emotion.

He’s crouching before them. Blearily, they try and meet his stare, but it’s still too blurry. Somehow, they remember that timeline—Sans’s expression as they held the knife to his eye socket...

“I’m sorry, Sans,” they say. “I really, really hurt you that one time. I won’t...do that again. I-I promise.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Sans says. They still can’t make out the details, but it’s pretty clear he’s disgusted. “Not to mention that you’re just a _mess_ , literally and figuratively. But you’re not the kind of kid who cleans up their act even after an apology, huh?”

“It’s _not_ my fault,” They whine, and they’re struggling to push their body up again, even as their arms shake too much and hurt too much to do so. “You’ve been through enough timelines—don’t you see how messed up everything is? The situation? The people? The _predictability_?”

“A lot of that _is_ your fault,” Sans retorted. “Who’s the one killing everyone over and over again?”

“Everyone...” Chara echoes as they pant, staring down at the reflective tiles, slick with blood and maybe even sweat and tears. “Everything... I’m sick of all of it. If I could just destroy everything—I would, but... I’m stuck like this. I can’t escape. I’m as helpless as everyone else. It’s so...so frustrating. And these emotions—I feel so _much_ at once that I crack and I... I just can’t take it anymore so when I see someone else, _I have to_...!”

“Have to?” Sans repeats the phrase. His sockets narrow—they’ve never looked darker or emptier. “That’s a laugh.”

“I already know how people react—whether you’re nice or cruel. It matters about the same when the world keeps on resetting. Even _killing_ them—really, truly _hurting_ them leads to predictable results. It’s not about curiosity.” Chara swallows acidic blood, and, somehow, with unwavering determination, they meet Sans’s void stare. “It’s about release. Once it’s easy to hurt, it’s easier to numb—and it hurts so, so much less. It’s not about satisfying curiosities—it’s about **_SAVING_** yourself for just a little while longer!”

Sans didn’t say anything. That could mean anything.

“This is the only relief there is,” Chara swears. “This is the only form of liberation out there. You understand, don’t you, Sans? You have to! _Why else have you been fighting me when you know you won’t win_?!”

He still kept quiet. Was that denial? Refusal? Just _nothing_?

“Sans, you understand, don’t you?” they ask again, and then repeat, in a wretched little whisper, “Don’t you? _Sans_?”

Without missing a beat, Sans formed a bone in his hand. The end was sharpened like a stake. Before Chara could so much as catch their breath, he rammed it straight through their skull.

* * *

There’s a timeline where, when working on the machine, he—

...he...

He kind of loses it.

He kind of wrecks the damn thing.

It’s in pieces. More pieces. So many pieces.

“Welp,” he says, with a broken, trembling laugh that’s just perfect for the mood and environment with this broken, wrecked machine. “This isn’t going to work. It’s, heh, it was _never_ going to work. Haha. This was all I had, too... Aw, jeez...”

**_“Tragic,”_** Chara mumbles, nudging at one of the pieces with their foot. His response is to kick that particular piece. It makes an ugly clang against the wall.

“I think I’ve probably completely lost it,” Sans says, quietly. The kid looks at him with the exact amount of exasperation as he feels right now.

**_“You think?”_ **

He just laughs and laughs and laughs until he can’t even speak.

* * *

When that lady behind the door made him promise to protect a human, he couldn’t help but dumbly wonder, why _him_?

_You trade a few terrible jokes with a guy and you think he’s fit to look after the enemy of all monsters? Really, lady? Are you just that desperate or what?_

Still, it’s not like he had it in him to refuse. He wouldn’t refuse someone with that kind of integrity. Maybe she picked up on that. That old woman was...surprisingly good at picking up on subtle moods, come to think of it.

He liked her. He really did. And they barely knew anything about each other.

(Sure, he could’ve figured out a few things. He’s heard rumors. He’s good at investigating. It wouldn’t have been hard to at least come close to the truth. But she didn’t have that luxury. And he needed that.

There was something nice about having someone who couldn’t take one good look at you. It was nice that here was someone who _wouldn’t know_.

Not about the permanent grin on his face or the shadows under his sockets or even about that _one measly HP_.

She could guess, but she’d never be _quite sure_.

Uncertainty can be a precious thing sometimes.)

Their relationship was as simple and as uncomplicated as it could get. And maybe he should’ve been more cynical because it was only a matter of time before it got to be _more_ than that. If it wasn’t a bizarre, traitorous promise, it would’ve been something else.

Still, he told her he’d protect the human—the kid. He meant to keep it, he really did.

It’s just, uh, funny how things turn out?

_...Right? Something like that??_

* * *

He wouldn’t call Undyne a friend like his bro would. He’d call her a pal, probably, even if that’d just inevitably make him think of Alphys. He did like Undyne. He admired her, too.

She’s the only other person in the Underground capable of killing the kid aside from the king, and knowing her, she probably makes it look _gallant_. He’s watched her train with his bro, and she’s as fast as she is ferocious. To call her formidable would be an understatement.

Alphys probably watches her when she fights the kid. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, Sans bets that she’d be fawning over the sight of the woman she loved fighting like a true hero. It’s really no wonder people looked up to her. It’s no wonder Papyrus looked up to her.

Granted, Undyne was more than just someone to have a thoughtlessly high regard for. He already had King Asgore fulfilling that role quite well for the people.

When he saw how dramatic and loud she could be— ** _just like his bro_** —he just _had_ to give her a hard time. But it wasn’t all that funny when Undyne nearly killed him in a rage the first time and Papyrus actually got onto her for that—when Undyne realized how easy it’d _be_ to kill her best friend’s brother.

That, uh, _dampened_ their relationship quite a bit, needless to say.

But at least she still yelled at him like Papyrus did. At least she didn’t cut him any slack when it came to him slacking off. Little things, he supposed. Little things sometimes had to mean a lot.

Something like that.

_...Really?_

* * *

Little things—little comforts—sometimes made a big difference. Right? Right.

Small things like jokes at breakfast, banter at the pub, someone’s sincere smile, a sincere bout of laughter—they piled up, right?

Papyrus’s yelling was reason enough to get up in the so-called morning. Papyrus’s enthusiasm for life was worth sticking around day by day to see how things would turn out. Papyrus was—Papyrus was a _real star_. Just looking at Papyrus’s grin and listening to his over the top exclamations was enough to get Sans trailing after him when everything else weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

The kid’s empty smile and emptier gaze were enough to make it feel like the world just _froze over_. Everything went still, nothing mattered at all, and the kid didn’t even react at the sound of a whoopee-cushion going off. They didn’t even quirk their eyebrow or anything—they just, gave him an unexpectedly creepy dead-eyed stare and he pulls his hand back with a concerned twitch in his usual grin.

He took in their dusty sweater, dusty hair, the frayed edge of the red ribbon tied into the strands. It wasn’t hard to recognize cold, hard, heavy _familiarity_.

_So this is how things are gonna be?_

He still went along with it, of course. Chatted them up— _getting absolutely nothing in response save for the glazed look of someone who’s seen it all before_ —strained his smile when Papyrus showed up, asking him about the human and then turning on his heel and leaving just as quickly.

For a second, he considered just saving everyone else the trouble. Except.

_“Watch after them, and protect them, will you not?”_

He shut his sockets tight with a sigh. The kid didn’t even react then and it didn’t matter. What did it matter whether he did or didn’t? Hey, maybe he wasn’t giving this kid enough credit. Shouldn’t he have more _hope_ than that?

It’s kind of an essential thing to have when living down here after all.

He thought that—and it’d be a lie to suggest he hoped for the best for even a _second_.

* * *

What minuscule amount of hope he _did_ have fizzled out completely when that kid reached the Judgment Hall.

* * *

Sans has completely and utterly given up on the machine.


	12. The Golden Garden of Everything II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so here we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad this wasn't posted sooner and to make up for it, there's a double-update of sorts. Basically there's this and a side-story I'm gonna post, too. Yay!
> 
> I'm so tired.
> 
> But!!! I also managed to add adorable cover art for this fic to the first chapter! It was actually drawn for me months ago by a darling friend who I dearly adore, but I really wanted to share it now. Between this and [the](http://lemurcat.tumblr.com/post/143691584478/welp-i-was-reading-undertale-fanfics-and-then) [fanart](http://lemurcat.deviantart.com/art/blood-Tragic-Skelebros-606392528) someone drew for me way back when for Chapter 3, I'm definitely a very lucky~ girl~! I just wish I wasn't so scatterbrained. ;;
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone! May 2017 be much, much kinder.
> 
> Be careful. (Mind the warnings.)

Asgore liked to stroll around New Home a lot of the time to greet the locals and strike up friendly conversations. Sometimes he’d ask Sans to join him for these walks. With the bustling of New Home, the chatter of its people and their king, the king’s own resounding footsteps, Sans wondered if it’d be even louder compared to following Papyrus’s prancing lead in Snowdin.

To keep up his air of mystery, Sans would politely decline any situation where they’d be seen in public together. Though Asgore still insisted he at least take a look around New Home on his own. After all, he had _friends_ he could go and visit, right?

He’s sure he could find a pal or two or five—but it was so _easy_ getting lost in the crowd of New Home. It could be overwhelming, especially for a guy who could get crushed if others weren’t careful. Papyrus would worry furiously if he ever found out that Sans was on his own in New Home.

Papyrus rarely ventured far from Snowdin. He’d visit Undyne, attend a MTT event, or go diving into the dump, and he’d rush back home once he felt his business was finished. He’d often insist Sans do the same, especially involving his work in Hotland. Sans, ever understanding, just agreed with a chuckle.

Still, Sans liked the view of New Home’s lower levels. He liked the liveliness from a distance. If he played dumb for a while longer, the crowding would seem endearing rather than worrying.

New Home is utterly quiet now. It’s empty. It’s cold. The openness has been locked away for the moment. Sans overlooks the lower levels, quiet and maybe even contemplative.

He doesn’t flinch at the overly cheerful greeting from behind.

“Howdy! Quite a gloomy sight, huh?”

Sans regards Flowey’s bright, beaming face with a glance over his shoulder and turns back to New Home’s view.

“I don’t normally see you out here,” Flowey goes on with mock curiosity. “There something on your mind?” He lets out a shrill laugh. “Oh, what am I saying? Skeletons don’t even _have_ minds! It’s just you being your usual useless trashy self! Lying about and left behind! Haha!”

“The kid?” Sans asks without turning around.

Flowey pauses, blinking up at him in brief confusion. Then with a cheeky grin, he answers, “They’re on their way, on schedule as per usual. You’ve put them in a weird mood again, I’ll have you know.” Dropping into a sudden mumble, he adds, “But at least they’re not _moody_. I was starting to feel something like _worry_.”

“You’re their brother, after all,” Sans says, shuffling his hands into his pockets. “That’s just how it is.”

Flowey’s smile remains, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

Then, with a cute tilt, he replies, “Golly, even when you’re not cracking stupid jokes, you piss me off. Is that like, your _talent_ , trash bag?”

Sans chuckles, briefly straightening up his posture.  “Alright kiddo, I’ll bite.”

“Don’t call me that,” Flowey snaps quickly as he turns around, and Flowey meets his cool stare with an open, defiant glare. “I was just checking up on you. Don’t you remember me saying that I would, you _numbskull_?”

“Good one,” Sans mutters with that tired grin. Flowey’s glare only sharpens.

“Don’t get used to it,” he hissed. “Admittedly, I took a little longer than even I would have liked but... I prefer staying out of Chara’s way. I’m not an idiot like you.”

_That’s how you’re going to put it, huh._

It’s not like it really mattered.

“So what is there to say? This the part where you tell me your tragic backstory or something? I mean, I already know it—everyone knows the Undertale, after all, but uh...” Sans shrugs. “I dunno, another perspective might still be worthwhile. Maybe.”

“You’re not seriously interested in _that_ , are you?” Flowey asks, clearly disbelieving. “You spend a lot of time with that worthless scientist—you haven’t seen the tapes or reports in the lower labs? Actually, when was the last time you’ve even been there? Was it before Chara messed with your memory? You’d be able to piece together a lot if you just went down _there_.”

Sans’s grin just widens.

“Heh,” he shrugs. “I guess you’ve got a point. I know enough that it doesn’t really matter.”

“That actually doesn’t answer my question—but you agree that it doesn’t matter, so there’s really nothing else to say on the subject, huh?” Flowey just laughs. “Wow, you wasted my time! _Again_! You really are just _so_ good at that!”

“Eh, no hard _feelings_ , right?” Sans asks, keeping that perpetual smile with a low, low tone of voice. “Let’s just move _past_ this. Sound good, bud?”

Flowey scowled in disgust but smiled sweetly back with a fanged grin of his own. “Sure thing, sure thing!”

Sans hummed and then turned, gesturing the other to follow with his shoulder. Flowey, perking up, trailed behind him as he began to walk.

“So you’re not just going to teleport?” Flowey asks, honestly curious.

“I’m gonna save the magic for now. Besides, who doesn’t like a nice, chatty walk?” Glancing back briefly, he commented, “King Asgore’s always been a fan of those, you know.”

Flowey popped up in front of him, making him pause as the other exclaimed heatedly, “I _DO_ know! What are you trying to say, trash bag?!”

“Nothing, nothing,” Sans muttered, brushing him off and brushing past him, to his added annoyance. But when Flowey tried to trip him with a vine, he just side-stepped and kept on talking like nothing happened, “You’ve got one short fuse, huh? Or is it just because it’s me?”

“It’s _YOU_!” Flowey screeched after him. “It’s always, always, **_ALWAYS_** just you! And yet!”

He popped up in front again, worked up and practically steaming.

“Chara’s just so— ** _invested_** in you! You, _of all people_!”

Sans walks past but he just keeps on springing from the ground ahead, ranting.

“They were moody because _you_ wouldn’t talk to them!”

Sans side-steps another sweeping vine.

“Do you have any idea how **_INFURIATING_** that was?! And—and when you finally got over yourself and said something to them, they...! _They_...!!”

Sans stopped and took a few steps back when thicker, thornier vines abruptly burst from the ground before him.

“Welp,” he mumbles.

“I don’t understand, I really don’t,” Flowey says, hushed and almost hysterical. “I just don’t understand it at _all_... Just what do they _see_ in you?”

“Uh,” Sans looks back and it’s actually a pretty sad sight how down Flowey looks. The corner of his smile twitches as well as his left eye socket. “You’re, uh...looking in the wrong place for answers to questions like that, kid.”

“I told you not to call me that!” Flowey barked back, flustered and beyond frustrated. “Just how many times will I have to say it to get it through your _thick skull_?!”

There was a pause.

Sans snapped his fingers and fingergunned in approval.

Flowey positively _wailed_.

“ARGH, I REALLY DO **_HATE YOU_**!!”

* * *

“So uh, you chill now, bud?”

“...Just shut up.”

“Heh.”

“Shut _up_.”

Sans muffles another laugh but he does pause, tugging down his sleeve to check his bare wrist.

“They should be on their way here pretty soon. I should probably hurry, I guess.”

“What does it matter?” Flowey asks, though it’s more of a hiss. “If Chara arrives at the hall before you do, they’re just going to wait around until you show up. You know they will.”

_Will they, now?_

Nah, he knows they will.

_That’d be the perfect opportunity to kill the king though, right?_

Like _that_ mattered.

Sans taps his wrist like he would the face of a watch, and pulled his sleeve back up to cover it. Shuffling his hands into his pockets, he decided to just be on his way.

“So you’re going, then,” Flowey calls after him. “Can I ask why? Is dying to them really that fun? Or does Chara have you _trained_ or something?”

He doesn’t answer that. But somehow, Flowey seems to pick up on something.

“Oh,” he says, and a grin bursts across his face, giddy and ecstatic. “ _Oh_ —I’m not _wrong_ , am I, trash? Chara has you trained! Now _that’s_ funny!”

“Say, buddy,” Sans speaks up, pausing as Flowey popped out of the ground before him, grinning upwards with a curious tilt of his head. Slumping his shoulders just a bit, Sans went on without the slightest change in tone, “Since we’re on the subject on that kid—can I ask if there’s anything else you wanna say on that matter?”

“Huh? That’s a really weird way to word it.” Flowey’s smile widened even as his gaze narrowed. “Are you trying to manipulate me again, trash? I’m not falling for it. I _know_ you.”

“How well?” Sans asks, cheerfully and unassumingly. “Were we real good pals in a timeline or two?”

“More often than not at first! Though I didn’t like you at all even then.”

“A real _heartbreaker_ , aren’t you?” Sans asks, softer and more deliberate. “I’m starting to see where that behavior _stems_ from.”

“Ugh, like I haven’t heard _that_ one more than a couple times,” Flowey groans, rolling his eyes. “You never really change, do you?”

Sans just smiles back as Flowey grimaces before going on.

“No, I don’t think you do. You’re really messed up, huh?” Suddenly, a smile. “I mean, it can’t be helped, I guess. You know how hopeless everything is. Still—isn’t it going a bit too far when even your own brother is freaked out? I’ve never made Papyrus that _scared_ before, at least not without some creative threats towards others, but _you_ —what did you even do that had him rattling like that?”

“Which timeline?” Sans asks.

Flowey scoffed. “Don’t play dumb, idiot.”

He chuckles, but says nothing more. Somehow that’s what makes Flowey’s frown deepen, his stare harden, and then just go on as though nothing’s wrong.

“Well, that doesn’t matter either, now does it? Even with all that, you’re not on our level. You’re certainly not like Chara. You _know_ , but you don’t really _understand_ like they do. You’re—!” Flowey can’t help but giggle, even if it’s all malice without mirth. “You’re still _you_. Lazy, trashy, burden of sentimentalities. Why else would you look at me the way you do even if you know _better_?”

His phone was ringing. It was Alphys, of course, just in case the ringtone didn’t make that clear. Flowey giggles a bit more, and waits patiently as it rings and rings. On the last ring, Sans tugs it from his pocket, and stares down as it stops.

It starts ringing again soon after. It’d do that even under normal circumstances. Compared to Papyrus, he never was too good about answering the phone, so people have learned to attempt a call at least twice.

He doesn’t answer it this time either. Then, it rings a third time. And then, a fourth.

There’s not enough battery for a fifth attempt, but he shuffles it back into his pocket all the same. Flowey’s laugh is loud and resounding, but it doesn’t change the atmosphere at all. Not really.

“That’s a really _sad_ look,” Flowey chirps, wiggling his leaves.

“Eh.” Sans shrugs, rolling his shoulders. He chuckles, grin more lop-sided than before. “I’ve uh, got nothing to say.”

 “Of course you don’t, because you don’t _get it_.” The way Flowey speaks is slick and matter-of-fact with a widening grin on his face. “You’re _you_ —you’re not like Chara and me. You don’t understand; Chara _does_. They’re the _only one_ that does. That’s why they’re not going to spend their time worthlessly pitying me like you do.” Shrilly, he exclaimed, almost joyously, “They _get_ it!”

There was something strange that came over Flowey’s features then—something like a twisted shadow, highlighting the brightness of beady little eyes and a sharp, fanged grin. Reaching new, almost painful pitches, Flowey laughed and laughed.

“They understand—they’re _still_ the only one who understands! We’re really two of a kind, you know, and creatures like us... We wouldn’t hesitate to KILL each other if we got in one another’s way! So, that’s why...!”

Suddenly, silence, as though the light in his eyes and smile went out without warning.

“So...that’s...why...” Flowey trails off, tittering as he does. “Ha... H-Ha... Haha... H-Huh? Huh? Huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, _huh_?”

Flowey was shaking, expression looking as lost as it did vacant. Sans perked up, a little, but didn’t say a word. It’s not like Flowey would have noticed if he did with how he was mumbling to himself.

“What’s...going...? Why do I feel like I’ve said this all before?” Weakly, brokenly, he tried to laugh it all off. “That... That can’t be right...”

Countless thoughts seemed to go through his head at once. The more theories piled up, the more Flowey seemed to shrink in on himself.

_What a pitiful sight._

Abruptly, Flowey’s gaze snapped up to meet his own, and the kid glared with every bit of nothing he seemed to have.

“W-What’s with that look on your face? What, do you _know something_ that I don’t, trash bag?!” His voice rose until it grew shrill and screechy as he forced out laugh after laugh. “H- _Hah_! Haha, that’s a real joke! Real funny! Golly, you’re just _hilarious_!”

Sans took a step forward, making Flowey almost jump before ducking back into the ground and popping back up several paces further.

“Back _off_! Get—get the _HELL_ away from me!” Flowey shrieked. “If there’s something to say then just say it! Do you think I can’t handle it or something? Do you take me for some ignorant child?” Raising his voice even more, he shouted, “I can kill you! I’ve killed before! I-It’ll be _easy_!!”

Sans’s expression didn’t change at all. Somehow, that seemed to rile Flowey up even more.

“What is even WITH you, Sans?!  That... That look on your face... You... _You’re_... You’re being...!” Shaking his head furiously, he kept on shouting. “What’s going on?! What the hell is this?! _What’s going on_?!”

Sans still wasn’t saying anything. He just met Flowey’s glare evenly, smile unmoving before he simply sighed.

“ _Look_ , kid.”

“ _Don’t_ —!”

In the next blink, Sans was gone. Flowey stiffened before a shudder went up his body. He quickly burrowed into the ground, practically rushing to get to the entryway to the Judgment Hall. Of course Sans was there, standing before it and staring up at the Delta Rune carved into the stone above.

Somehow, without even being prodded, Sans started talking.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” he asks. “Whether something has or hasn’t happened—whether we do or don’t remember—what does it matter? It’s just going to reset again and again and again. You know that, I know that, we both know that. You’ve said it yourself, buddy.” Quieter, he implores, “You _remember_ that, don’t cha?”

Flowey hesitates. “I... I-I... O-Of course I do...”

“So what, I have to ask, has you all twisted up in a world like this?” Sans turns, once again, evenly meeting Flowey’s stare but still looking down on him. It should have been infuriating. He was shaking with _anger_ , **_not_** —! “Is there really anything that you can find surprising in a world you’ve relived countless times over?”

“...C...Chara...” The name practically slips out. Flowey’s gotten quieter and quieter. “Chara surprises me sometimes...”

Sans’s grin widens, and he lets out a low, casual chuckle. “Heh, well, that makes one of us, then. I’m happy for ya, bud.”

Like with the flick of a switch, Flowey snapped. “What the _HELL_ does that even mean?!”

Sans laughs. “Heh, heheh—nah, kid, I don’t mean anything by it. After all, nothing means anything, right?”

“S-Shut up!” Flowey wailed. “Are you just trying to piss me off now?! It’s working! Stop it!”

Sans’s smile slowly fades. And he says, in a low, cold tone of voice, “I meant what I said, y’know. Should I word it another way? Because, _look_ —this conversation is seriously starting to bore me.”

“You...! I...!” Flowey stops himself both times, trembling so hard petals could have come tumbling down. But somehow, it’s the way Sans looks at him that has him utterly still and paralyzed.

“That’s all there is to say anyway,” Sans says, as calmly and as casually as expected of him. But that look isn’t expected of him at all that’s _not him_ at all— _something like this couldn’t_ **possibly** _be_ —“Well, kid, I’ll see ya.”

He waves at Flowey once and then disappears into that shadowy entrance. Flowey stayed there, quaking all the while.

* * *

Their voice echoes all across the emptiness.

“Asriel!”

He tried not to flinch. He really did.

“Ah... Uh... H-Howdy, Chara!” Flowey quickly turned around, forcing his usual grin. It still faltered the closer Chara approached as he forced himself to go on, “S-So you uh, finally made it back home—again! Gosh, uh, how many more times do you think we’re going to do this?”

“Asriel,” Chara says with that sweet smile of theirs. “It’s unusual for you to meet me right before the hallway’s doorway.”

“Uh...!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Chara quickly brushes off any concerns with an angelic laugh that soon lowers in tone, “Unless—did something happen that we need to discuss? Does this something involve _Sans_?”

“No... I mean! There’s nothing to discuss!” Flowey burst out. “Nothing happened! I... _Yeah_!”

“Asriel.” Chara’s tone raises warningly. “I don’t _like_ it when people lie to me. When it comes from you, I like it even less.”

“No, no! I swear it!” Flowey insists almost desperately. “He just—Sans just creeped me out a little! He—he was behaving just so _weirdly_!”

Chara blinks once, and cocks their head to the side curiously. “Weirdly?”

“Yeah, I mean...! He was still the smiley trash bag but there was...something different about him. Very, very different... Chara, I...” Flowey hesitates before going on, stumbling over the words as he did. “I couldn’t get a read on that guy at all... I-I’m starting to wonder if he’s really...?”

“Really what?”

“Really... Really...” Flowey trails off as his glance flickers upwards towards his best friend. His best friend, staring down at him, looming over him, and looking more like an unidentifiable shadow than anything else.

“Really _what_?”

“I... I...”

“Asriel,” the shadow urged, sharp and cold. “Tell me.”

“I...” He hesitated, smile twitching. “I... N... Never mind... N-Never mind! It’s nothing! Don’t mind me!”

They perked up. “Really?”

“Really!” Flowey nodded frantically. “I, uh, I was just being silly! I thought about it and—there’s really nothing to worry about! So, uh, don’t worry, Chara!”

“Oh...” Chara smiles brightly at him. “Oh, Asriel, you’re so silly. And still a worrywart, I see. You haven’t changed at all!”

“Y-Yeah...” Flowey agreed, not quite relieved quite yet. “T-That’s right...”

He mustered up a returning smile, and then Chara was walking past him. He hurriedly turned after them, but he remained in place.

“C-Chara...?”

“It won’t be much longer,” they were saying. They weren’t acknowledging him at all. They were getting further and further way. “I’m so close. I can’t believe it—I’m so _close_...”

“ _Chara_?”

They paused. For a moment, he thought they’d just immediately resume walking—but they turned back and smiled.

“Asriel, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“I...” Flowey hesitates, but returns that smile. “...okay....”

They nodded back, and left him there just like that.

* * *

“Huh, one of them’s cracked.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This window,” Sans says, pointing to the stained glass in question. He flashes an easy grin as Asgore perks up, shuffling closer to take a look for himself. “There’s a crack.”

“Oh, goodness, I hadn’t even noticed,” Asgore murmured before sighing. “Well, it is only to be expected. These windows are all quite old; it was only a matter of time.”

“It’s the only one cracked, by the way,” Sans said, humming as he shuffled his hands back into his pockets. “All the other ones are otherwise pristine.”

“You have a sharp eye don’t you, Sans?” Asgore asks, warmly smiling down at him. “I have to admit, that’s quite impressive.”

“I think other people are just a little short-sighted, _your highness_.”  With a wink, he added, “Either way, I wouldn’t say I have an _eye_ , per say.”

Asgore meekly chuckles, looking apologetic and embarrassed. “Pardon me.”

“It’s cool,” Sans says. “I’m a _thick-boned_ guy, y’know?”

“I do,” Asgore agreed, good-naturedly. “Regardless, I would say you’re one of the most perceptive people I’ve known.”

“Heh.” Sans scrapes the top of his tennis shoe against the tile’s smooth surface. With a brief flickering glance towards the crack, jaggedly cutting through the cross impaling the Delta Rune, he went on. “That’s uh, a lot of people. So, heh, with all due respect—I consider the idea just a little implausible.”

“Perhaps,” Asgore says. “But it is how I feel.”

“Well.” Sans ducks his head further. “Feelings aren’t exactly _sensible_ sometimes, your highness.”

Asgore hums thoughtfully, and then, smilingly, “You’re correct.”

He doesn’t say anything in response to that. When the king turns, it’s with a swish of his cape against gold-reflected tiles, and a gentle, coaxing gesture to follow with his shoulder.

* * *

The kid’s footsteps are almost just as resounding as those back then and the many, many times before. Sans, sighing, only continues to stare at the cracked winged sphere of the Delta Rune on that one window.

“Greetings, Sans,” they chirp.

“Heya,” Sans returns without turning towards them. “So, let’s just cut straight to the point.”

“Hasty, aren’t we?” Chara asks, almost cheerfully. “You don’t have somewhere to _be_ , do you?”

Sans doesn’t answer.

“You don’t have anything to _do_ either, right?”

Chara hums, tilting their head with expecting, unsettlingly bright red-brown eyes.

“Would it be accurate to suggest you just want to rush to the end where you die and there’s nothing but _nothing_? Even though that’s just _temporary_?”

“You going anywhere with this, freak?” Sans asks, quiet and almost unassuming. He’s still not looking at them. But at least he’s talking.

“Nowhere you haven’t been before, most likely,” Chara answers honestly with a bit of an almost pitying giggle. “You must have heard everything I’ve had to say a thousand times over by now.”

Sans huffed, grin twitching as he agrees, “Yeah, probably.”

Chara’s smile almost saddens, their tone almost earnest. “Has any of what I said stuck with you, at least? Sans?”

_A flash of a much more shadowy smile._

**_“Have you considered it, Sans?”_ **

Sans, pausing and perhaps even stiffening, only gives them a look.

“How much longer do you think you can last?” Chara asks. “You can’t keep fighting me forever. That look on your face—I can’t help but worry.”

“So, what?” Sans’s dull stare narrows. “It’s not like you’re sparing me any other options.”

Chara just smiles. That smile says enough.

He could smear their body all over this hallway and that’d smile remain in spite of any and all physical efforts to wipe it off.  But words worked pretty well, all things considered.

Until they didn’t anymore because the kid’s heard it all before a thousand times over. Or something like that.

Why should he worry about something like this? Isn’t it hypocritical to be bothered by a creep’s perpetual grin? _Is_ he bothered?

 _Nah._ Sans thinks, as he sighs. _I’m not._

“Sans,” Chara says, as they step forward.

Tiredly, he greets them with a ding and a fling of their body into the column as per usual. His grip on their SOUL is still, cold, and he doesn’t really feel it, so he just...drops them. They brace theirself on the landing so that it doesn’t hurt too much, and when they push theirself up, they just wipe blood off their chin, and turn to him with that smile, gaze still bright.

“God, you’re creepy,” Sans mutters drearily. “Even when you’re underplaying it.”

Chara laughs—and then they cough from all the dust. “You say that, but you don’t really seem all that bothered.”

_Nah, I’m not._

He just tosses their SOUL into another column and leaves it at that.

It’s easier that way. He doesn’t have to think at all.

So he doesn’t think. He just...stops.

* * *

It’s so easy. He doesn’t have to think about this at all.

_That’s—that’s messed up isn’t it?_

Well, not like that matters or anything. _Right?_ Right.

* * *

“Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?” she asked.

He just agreed.

“More likely than anything else, that human is going to try to kill you,” he said. “But, well, I’m sure you understand that, Papyrus.”

Papyrus had nodded.

“Consider it,” they urged, over and over again, more and more like the desperate, lost little kid they were, clinging to anything that made sense in the mess of the situation they were in. “Consider it, consider it, _please_ , consider it, Sans.”

* * *

They broke their wrist from one of the throws. They’re hissing and giggling, and the knife clatters against the floor as they cradle that limp, useless hand close. Tears are welling up in their eyes. But when they see him approaching, they still grin up at him with those bright, bright eyes.

It’s really easy to quickly kill someone in that much pain. He doesn’t even think about it.

* * *

“That last time took me off-guard,” Chara explains after the inevitable restart of this fight. They almost look embarrassed with how they laugh, rubbing at the nape of their neck. “I’ll try to make this time last.”

The joke registered, but only distantly, like it was somewhere his mind couldn’t reach. Distantly, he wondered if he should be concerned, but that wonder drifted off to that far-off nowhere before he could really wrap his head around it.

Two barrages later, and the kid’s HP doesn’t have so much as a dent. _Eh._

It’s not like they’ve gotten a hit on him either—and he thinks they’re trying to. He’s actually not sure and that— _that’s_ what bothers him.

Chara remained surprisingly diligent about dodging everything. A narrowly made leap through the gaps here, sidestepping springing up bones there, rolling under the blaster’s fire, pushing theirself up quickly and out of range of more of those bones. They can’t avoid having their SOUL yanked around—but they brace theirself best they can with an admirable amount of effort.

The way they swing their knife towards him—he only needs to be paying half-attention to avoid that. The way they move—the way they go in for the kill—the way they attack...

He realizes that they really don’t have a lot of variety. Without formulating magic, there’s only so many ways to fight with the physique and a knife and nothing else. All they can do is stay diligent when he slips, and then that’ll be it.

Until the next reset. But, all the same, it’s only a matter of time. They just need one successful hit. That’s all it’s ever taken. It should be a lot easier for them than it is—and hasn’t it been getting easier with each timeline?

They slip up when avoiding the blaster, and roll too late out of the way of the springing bones. One tears through their sleeve, leaving a straight, clean cut that dyes the blue with red, staining the fabric dark. They flinch, but whatever pain there is, it’s easy to ignore, apparently.

No surprise there. It’s beyond minimal, all things considered. It barely makes a dent—and it’s not like it matters when the kid can just reset and be _good as new_ —

...Or something like that.

There’s really no point.

Another jump. Another roll. They incidentally twirl on their heel to avoid projectiles. He wonders if they picked that up from fighting Undyne, considering Undyne’s style of combat. With how much Undyne could throw—Sans _wondered_.

Undyne could throw attack after attack tirelessly for close to forever. He can’t say he could ever live up to that.

Not when he’s already tired. Sure as hell not when he’s already ready for another fake ending, or at least a short break of nothing.

What an irritating thought.

There’s a blink. The kid jumps up to avoid. There’s another. The blaster’s ray only narrowly misses—and it singes just a bit of their hair. Another blink, and Chara once again flashes him a smile right before ducking under projectile and canon fire alike.

“ _Ugh_ ,” he groans, and when Chara leaps for him, he’s quick to blink out of the way. They swipe at him wildly, but for lack of a better term, dodging everything is child’s play.

“You look so tired,” Chara coos, prowling around him. “Do you want a break, Sans?”

“Heh, is that a real question?” he asks wryly. Any hint of a smile drops when Chara stops in place, as they stand there, patient and accepting, and Sans’s stare darkens and darkens.

Several blasters appear and fire at them all at once—and of course they avoid that. Of _course_ they do.

“Suit yourself, Sans,” they chirp, landing with only a bit of a stumble, and quickly regaining their balance.  The red in their eyes almost looks like it’s glowing. “Let’s see how long you can last, then.”

“Let’s see,” he repeats, left socket awash with bright blues and yellows.

* * *

There’s really nothing except this, and at least he does feel something in these times.

But, honestly?

That feeling’s dying out too.

And, when he gets to that point—he’s just not going to be sure of anything anymore.

But, well, it’s not like _that’s_ saying much.

Somewhere, birds are singing, flowers are blooming, and somewhere, it’s raining.

Chara deflects one of the bones thrown at them with their knife. He flings them up the second they’re just a step in front of him, and when they’re sent plummeting down, they just land on their feet, though not without a slight, momentary flinch.

They rush for him, and he side-steps every attempted slash, shrugging at them all the while.

“Y’know,” he says, and Chara immediately perks up. “A break really, truly, doesn’t actually sound all that bad.”

Chara, wiping off their chin, cocks their head to the side.

“In fact, uh,” Sans rubs at the back of his skull, feigning embarrassment. “It’s not too much to ask for a raincheck on this fight, is it? I mean, it’s not like it’s going to matter whether we put it off or not. You’re just going to reset—and hell, you could just reset right now. What’s the hurry? What’s the rush? Time’s nothing more than a dull, meaningless loop.”

He’s not sure what he expects, but he does carefully take in the way Chara’s wide, red-brown eyes blink up at him, attentive as always, creepily fixated as per usual. He doesn’t really get it, he’d like to think—but it’s still a familiarity.

Papyrus sometimes had that same inquisitive childishness about him. And he doesn’t want to think about that. He _definitely_ doesn’t want to think about that. It, uh, actually is kind of an aching thought. He’s not that desperate to feel.

Chara plops down, graceless and eager to please.

“Take as long as you like,” they say sweetly, almost angelically. “I don’t mind at all.”

“I changed my mind,” Sans snapped, irritated. “Get _up_.”

Chara does, dusting theirself off as they do.

“You’re beyond unpleasant, you know that?” he asks. “It’s like you ruin _everything_.”

“I guess that isn’t entirely an inaccurate assessment,” they hum. “But it’s not like this world wasn’t already broken before. It’s beyond repair now, regardless of what I do, undo, or don’t do.”

Sans sighs, heavily and long-suffering, but he can’t help but laugh, however cold and humorless the sound is.

“That’s not an excuse,” he said, simply and bluntly. “You really are just a child, aren’t you?”

Chara stiffens. And then, “Children don’t last as long as I do. Childhood is supposed to be fleeting, is it not?”

“You could say the same thing about regular humans and life in general,” Sans replies with another shrug. “Are you seriously going to argue that point? _Seriously_? That of all things?”

“Hush.” The word is as quick as it is sharp. And then, Chara seems to think it over. “It really doesn’t matter if I do, does it. But I have to ask—does this change anything? I doubt you’ll be lenient _now_ , Sans.”

“Your doubts are well-founded.”

And with that, their body is slammed into the window with a sickening series of cracks at the impact. Flickering a brief glance to the upwards crack that was already there, Sans hums as he lets their body drop.

They land none too gently. There’s blood streaking down their face form their crown, and they just wipe their brow with their sleeve. A tooth is looser than it should be, but nothing’s fallen out this time. Still, they lap at their bleeding gums, the cuts on their lips, and they can’t help but laugh and laugh.

“You’re something _else_ ,” Chara breathes, turning on their heel, swallowing down blood and spittle as they do. “I just don’t know how you do it!”

“I don’t, either,” Sans mumbles, quiet enough that he almost didn’t hear himself. Before he really thinks about that, he just focuses on Chara, pouncing on him, and he’s back to not really thinking at all as the ‘fight’ begins anew.

* * *

**_“Just give up. You already have before. It doesn’t even matter. Why even try anymore?”_ **

Somehow, he hadn’t wanted to accept that. If he did, he’d be admitting that everything that’s ever happened, everything he tried for and everything he gave up on—none of that amounted to anything.

The machine, the people he doesn’t want to forget but knows he’ll never see again, everyone and Papyrus—

Papyrus.

He cared about Papyrus more than anything. Papyrus pushed him onward, or Papyrus tugged him along. Papyrus would be there up until the point he wasn’t. Papyrus, with his genuine smile and spirit, was more than someone worth the effort.

He’s spent so much time mourning him. He’s spent so much more time just registering his death and shrugging his shoulders over it, because it’s not like death _means_ anything in a world like this. His brother dies, swearing on a person’s potential for good, and it doesn’t even matter a little.

He cared about his brother more than anything.

He _cared_.

It may have been a feeble, fading feeling from the start but he held onto it. He held onto it for as long as he could and as tightly as he could manage. It just—crumbled into dust all the same. He tried regardless, hadn’t he? _Hadn’t_ he?

...No. He hadn’t. Wasn’t that terrible? It sounds pretty terrible. It is pretty terrible. It should feel pretty terrible, if only he could be bothered to feel anything anymore.

Wow.

Now that’s _really_ terrible.

* * *

He registers the aching only distantly at first. Then it blurs everything else, to the point where he’s panting, damp with sweat and slime, and he’s just—he slams the kid into the walls, ceiling, and floor harder as if that’d block out the pain up until he’s struggling and his arm feels like it’s being tied down with weights.

Chara manages to stand, even against his magic, and his grip on their SOUL just—slips.

And so, Sans collapses to his knees. Even rattling is painful, and breathing hurts even worse—ironically, it’s probably the most alive he’s ever felt and he...he really has no idea what he’s supposed to do with that.

He’s just waiting for it to be over, really.

Chara is already walking towards them, with the crimson gleam of their knife shimmering in the golden light, as their crimson gaze regards the trembling, worthless heap before them.

“Sans.”

He doesn’t even know if he has the energy to lift his head.

Chara stumbles a bit, incidentally, and their voice rises.

“Sans.”

“Just get it over with,” he said, staring at his reflection in cracked tiles and shutting his sockets tight.

He waits and waits for nothingness—and nothing happens. It still hurts so much that thinking is almost agonizing.

But, when he finally does raise his gaze, the kid is just—patiently sitting down before him. They smile, of course they smile.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to start up again,” they say. “I’ll wait.”

Sans, despite everything, has to laugh. And, as he winces and hisses as his bones protest at the motions, he still forces his limbs so that he’s sitting on his rump. He’s probably mirroring the kid—but he could care less about that.

His magic’s completely spent. Some people have to rest for days to recover from something like that. But, if he really wanted to, he supposed he could just...push himself until his bones crumbled to fine dust. He could. It—it wouldn’t be _that_ hard, right?

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighs, chuckling dryly and gruffly as he does. “Kid, there’s nothing more for you here in this run. Just move on to the next.”

Chara frowns.

“It matters about the same, right?” he asks, with a miserable grin. “This is never gonna really end, yeah? It’ll just keep going and going in some sick cycle, and who even cares, right? I don’t. I don’t care anymore.”

“You’ll just let me kill you?”

“I can’t defend myself anymore, so, I really haven’t a choice,” With another laugh, he adds, “I’m also really tired, so... You win, kid. I give up.”

And, as awful as it is, those words are liberating.

“I give up,” Sans repeats, and his head drops as he stares at his mitted fingers rubbing idly at his throbbing ankles. “I just... It just doesn’t matter. I give up. So kill me, alright? Please, just kill me. It really, really doesn’t matter, y’know?”

“I... No.” Puffing their cheeks out, Chara wraps their arms around their knees and glares at him. “I’m not going to kill you. I don’t even want to.”

“Huh...” He blinks blearily, only barely registering the words, and shrugs. “Well, alright. Fine. Whatever, I guess. It...doesn’t matter to me.”

Chara doesn’t answer.

But, all the same, the two of them just sit there.

Somehow, in spite of everything, he drifts.

* * *

Chara’s sitting closer to him when he wakes, and he doesn’t have it in him to move. He just stares up at the kid, with their thin arms wrapped around boney, knobby knees, chin pressed in-between. They seemed to be looking off to the side with a glazed sort of stare, as though their gaze was fixated on something physically unseen.

Then, they notice his staring, and they meet his gaze with wide, curious red-brown eyes. They’re covered in dust, dry blood, scrapes, and bruises, and yet they smile without issue and somehow look like an actual kid.

_Gross._

Sans just averts his gaze indifferently.

“Sans,” they say, suddenly. “This world is cruel, don’t you think? It refuses to be destroyed and it refuses to move onward. Selfish, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Why do you think that is? After having lived through it all so many times, I’m afraid I just don’t know the answer. You’re perceptive, aren’t you, Sans? Do you have any ideas?”

Sans just shakes his head.

“It’s unbearable, isn’t it? Even this between us can only provide so much relief...” Chara trails off with a hum, lids lowering as their gaze remained locked on Sans before them. “But it’s all you have, isn’t it? What else do you have to live for?”

Sans thinks of laughter and smiles—and how those smiles all crumble to dust over and over again as the laughter grows louder and louder, to the point where it all shatters. There’s just nothing left.

Even Papyrus’s smiling image is faded into something so dusty he can’t make it out anymore.

_...There’s really nothing left._

“I...” Sans can’t help but laugh. It hurt, but it’s nothing. Nothing at all. “That kind of thinking’s a bit...conceited, I think.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Chara said sharply and matter-of-factly. “That’s not an answer to anything, even if it might be true.”

 _Might be._ He snickers, but he’s still not feeling any humor in any of this.

“What do you live for?” Chara asks again. Except it’s a significantly different question. “What keeps you going? Is it really just antipathy? Or is it a genuine desire to live even if it’s like this?”

_You’d really call an existence like this living?_

“What are you going to do when you’ve given up? Are you just going to stay at home? Is that how you’ll live?”

_That’s not living either._

“What will it be, Sans? What’s your answer?” Chara’s pressing. “What are you living for right now?”

“Nothing,” he says, simply and just like that. “I’m not even living right now. Kid, I haven’t been alive for longer than I can remember, probably.”

They perk up, eyes wide and mouth a perfect circle.

Then, their lips pull into a straight line, deep enough that it leaves indents on their rosy, dusty, bruised cheeks.

“How depressing. But, I suppose I understand. How long has it been since I felt human? I don’t even remember the feeling from my first life. I barely remember a lot of my feelings from back then.”

Sans doesn’t comment. His gaze narrows, but that’s the only change in his expression.

“I had wanted them to live, hadn’t I? I had wanted everyone to be happy, right? What had I wanted? What was so important to me?” Chara’s wistful, thoughtful expression fades into something else. “I don’t remember. Is it even _my_ will that keeps me going now? Or is it _theirs_? I don’t want to think about that. All I know is that I—I can’t stop, nor can I move on. I... _I_...!”

Their shoulders are trembling, giggles bubbling to their lips and up their throat. With the way they cover their mouth, their eyes screwed tight, it’s almost like they’re close to throwing up. The shaking gets worse and worse to the point it’s like their bones are rattling.

But then, their eyes fly open, and—again, their stare locks onto Sans, unmoved and dully staring back. Just like that, their quaking begins to cease, and they blink a few times to focus before pulling their hand back from their mouth, and taking a soft, short breath.

“Sans...” They start, and then smile. “You _understand_ , right? We... We’re similar, aren’t we? You _need_ to hurt me, don’t you? Do you want to? I’ll let you. I’ll cry if you want to. I’ll even scream.”

Somehow, Sans doesn’t even flinch.

“But that’s not enough, is it?” Chara asks, laughing just a little, much lighter than before. “It’s not anymore, anyway. Sans, tell me, what do you want?”

_Want, huh?_

“How do you feel?”

_I **don’t**..._

“You feel trapped, don’t you?”

He did.

“We’re both trapped to this world, aren’t we?”

Everyone was. But they didn’t know the full extent. Wouldn’t they all go crazy if they did? It’s for the best that they didn’t.

...And, _yet_.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? It just makes you want to lash out, right? Even when you’re numb to everyone and everything else—there’s just something about hurting someone that’s _so_...”

...so _liberating_.

Hilarious, isn’t that.

He feels like he should laugh or something, but he isn’t really feeling it. He isn’t really feeling much of anything, still. What was there to feel? What even was there to say? The kid can keep on talking, but—he’s heard it all before, right? Is there really a point to anything anymore?

_They think so._

“Sans, are you listening?”

He’s not even going to dignify that with a visible reaction. Chara, at least, seems to pick up on that. They’re getting better at reading him, probably. They must know him so well, if only they weren’t so narrow-minded and childish in their thoughts and perceptions.

But maybe that’s arrogant thinking. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking. He really can’t be bothered to look further into it. It’s just some thoughts that left a bitter aftertaste and nothing more. Probably.

It doesn’t matter either way, whatever the kid knows or thinks they know. They’ll just push on forward regardless, probably. It’s not unlike Papyrus—

_Papyrus..._

It’s not unlike Papyrus.

Whatever. What _ever_.

He brings his knees close to himself. Others would maneuver themselves in this position for a bit of warmth or comfort—and Sans feels as cold and unpleasant as ever. At least, he distantly felt that way.

“Ah, Sans?” Chara asks curiously. “Sans?”

Sans stared hard at the space between the two of them. Somewhere, his thoughts wander and that disjointed, detached feeling swirls around in an otherwise empty void. Somewhere, a small part of him shatters like a monster dusting in the wind. Somewhere, it’s raining. Somewhere, it’s a beautiful day outside. Somewhere—people are laughing and smiling and having a good time like nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong, everything’s fine, fine, _fi_ —

“Out of all the people you could’ve thrown for countless loops,” Sans says, softly enough to be a whisper. “Why’d it have to be me?”

“You’re asking that now?” Chara wonders. “Haven’t I told you already?”

He shrugs, grin straining. “Just, uh, answer the question. Just _tell_ me.”

“Hmm,” they hum. “Perhaps it’s because I’m fond of you? Well, I won’t deny that as a factor... Nevertheless, there is more to it, of course. Sans, do you remember our first fight?”

“No,” Sans says with a huff. “Of course not.”

“I don’t mean the actual first—even I don’t think I remember that. I mean our first fight as far as you _remember_ , unless you don’t.” Chara gives him a look. “Do you remember?”

Despite himself, he sighed. “Yeah. What of it?”

“I had been through countless timelines—I had fought and killed you countless times. There was seemingly nothing the world could offer me, but still I found myself repeating the events over and over again. Even with all that determination, Sans, do you want to know _what_ else filled my very being?” Chara doesn’t even wait for an answer. The second he perked up, however dully and disinterestedly he did, they went on, “Hopelessness. I felt despondency as strongly as I did determination. Perhaps I even felt distressed and desperate—I do wonder what I would have done if not for you...”

Sans kept on staring. Chara met that sharp gaze evenly.

“What would I have _done_ —if you hadn’t _said something different than usual_?” They stress out the words, and their tone is almost harsh before it quickly lightens and they can’t help but laugh. “I... I actually don’t like thinking about it for too long... I really can’t put into words how grateful I am towards you.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” he muttered, unimpressed.

Chara’s smile widens. “If you hadn’t been so stubborn...”

“Go ahead,” Sans cuts in coldly. “Finish that sentence.”

They paused. They don’t go on. They might’ve even flinched.

“Yeah,” Sans said, chuckling lowly and bitterly as he presses his hand against his eye socket and sighed. “That’s what I _thought_.”

“...Sans...”

“Wow, you just really messed up everything, huh?” He laughs in harder, harsher puffs. “I mean, things weren’t exactly great before you dropped in. They probably weren’t great even before that flower popped up, but—things were at least _manageable_ , y’know?”

“So you’re saying it’s our fault, then, that everything’s messed up?”

“You have to admit—the two of you make an awfully convenient pair of scape _goats_ ,” Sans giggles at that, and he finds he can’t stop. “I mean—who else am I supposed to blame, right? Myself? Hell, it might just be my fault and I don’t remember. Wouldn’t that be hilarious? Wouldn’t that be just _amazing_? God, what a mess. What an absolute _mess_.”

Chara’s quiet as he keeps on laughing, shoulders shaking and face buried in his hands. He laughs and laughs and it hurts and hurts and he can’t even _think_ —

“I just want it to end. If this is how my life was meant to play out then I don’t—I don’t... I... I just...” He’s still tittering, but it’s getting softer and softer. “What am I supposed to do? Just what am I supposed to _do_? I don’t... I just don’t...”

“Sans,” Chara says, making him go completely still save for a brief shiver that’s so light it doesn’t even make his bones rattle. “ _Sans_...”

Sans curls in on himself.

“If I’m really stuck like this...” he starts, low and almost dead in tone. “Is it too much to at least ask for something _new_?”

Chara stood. “Do you really want that? Something new?”

Sans groaned, but there wasn’t much behind it.

“Sans?” they ask again, and then pressingly, “ _Sans_.”

They took a few small steps forward. The tapping of their feet against the tiles was resounding but Sans didn’t hear it at all. Even as Chara moved closer, Sans remained still and unmoving. He didn’t even respond to them closing in, be it with recoiling or lashing out.

But, it’s not like he had the energy much less the magic to do the latter. It would have been so easy to kill him—the kid’s still _holding_ the knife. It’d be easy, probably the easiest thing the kid ever did. But they don’t even attempt it.

Instead, they offer him their hand.

He briefly acknowledges it with a flickering glance, but makes no motion towards slapping it away. He doesn’t even look at their face or pull his hands away from his own. If anything he buries himself even further into them, curling up even more. He does let out a puff of what would’ve been a laugh, but it dies just as quickly as it arrives. So, he just remains still.

For what it’s worth, the kid’s patient. They just wait and wait.

And he—he pulls his hands back, and slowly turns his stare back to their hand. It’s rough with bumps and probably even dust. There’s dust in addition to dried blood under their cracked nails. Some of the fingers look swollen. Their knuckles are bruised.

Despite himself, he glances up. Chara smiles down at him. Their face is dusty, too, mostly from it getting stuck in their hair. There’s blood streaking down their face, and it looks only barely dry. There’s a thin cut on their cheek.

They briefly open their mouth to say something, drawing his attention to some of their chipped teeth, but decide against it and just keep on smiling down at him. The smile almost looks pleading—hell, it almost looks desperate.

...Huh.

Sans stares past them, at everything else and nothing in particular. He’s not sure what he’s expecting—maybe Papyrus? Alphys? Undyne? Mettaton? _Her_? Everyone else?

There’s no one else here. No one else but them. Nothing else but them, as far as the two of them are concerned.

There hasn’t been anyone else besides them and maybe the former kid prince for a long, long while.

How many times has he gone through this song and dance? How many times have the same people died over and over again? How long ago did anything matter to him?

He used to be happy or at least content at one point in his life, right? He used to feel something for everyone, right? It feels like he’s just been dragged away from all that—and he doesn’t have it in him to drag himself back.

God, what’s even the _point_?

It’d be the easiest it’s ever been to just kill him and instead the kid’s offering him his hand. They’re pleadingly smiling down at him like they really think this will help. Like they really think this will make a difference in the mess everything and everyone’s turned out to be.

He knows it’s not that simple. But, the thing is—does he really _care_ anymore?

**_“Just give up.”_ **

_“Watch over them and protect them, will you not?”_

It doesn’t matter whose smile he thinks of. They all blur together into something muddied, unrecognizable, and too distant for him for reach for. When did that happen? How long has this _been_ happening? How long has he _let_ it?

That’s just terrible, _isn’t it_? That’s messed up, **_right_**? It’s just _too bad_ that it doesn’t— _even_ — ** _matter_**.

It doesn’t. It **_doesn’t matter at all_**.

So...

_...So, what the hell._

He thinks that, he doesn’t care—and yet, as he reaches for that kid’s hand, he knows there’s a brief, flickering moment where he hesitates.

Said moment passes, and Chara’s fingers wrap tightly around his hand. He doesn’t fight them pulling him up to his feet, even though his bones still ache.

When it got to be too much, he found himself leaning against them. They supported him without difficulty or complaint. They even smiled up at him.

Of course they did.

...Of course.

_~~ Papyrus ~~ _ ~~ is little more than the briefest flicker in his thoughts. ~~

* * *

Chara does a really bad job of downplaying how giddy they are to be swinging their connected hands and walking with him through the long, gray entryway to the throne room. He’s hardly bothered by that. He finds it kind of creepy, but whatever. Just whatever.

He doesn’t really look around much in a place he’s already been through several times before. But, it had been a while, hadn’t it? The last time he’d been here felt so long ago.

In actuality, it had to be a week ago tops or something along those lines. Hell, it might’ve even been yesterday.

Chara does pause at the throne room’s entrance, and they flash him another cheerful smile. Their grip tightens around his hand. Then they tug him a little further past, to where there are several stairs going down.

“My coffin’s down here. Have you seen it before, Sans? It’s about as comfortable as it looks.”

He knew of it. He just...never was one for exploring. And maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t wanted the image of a kid’s coffin haunting his mind in conversations with Asgore, not that it didn’t already. But actually knowing what they looked like as opposed to his uninspired imagination might’ve been a little more difficult. Then again, it’s not like it would have changed anything.

It matters even less now.

...King Asgore is singing to himself again. He picks up on that. He looks back to the entrance, and Chara notices.

“Oh,” they say, and giggle, heading back that way and pulling him along. “Okay, Sans. Let’s get this run over with.”

* * *

The golden flowers bloom as beautifully as ever. Now that he really looks at them, he realizes that they have this radiance to them that the former kid prince lacked. But maybe that’s just a trick of the light. Maybe it’s just the overall warmth that Sans really can’t pretend to feel anymore.

Asgore’s still humming, but he perks up at hearing their arrival. Chara’s, specifically, with their audible footsteps, because Sans didn’t make a sound when he walked in.

Chara presses close to his side, almost hiding behind him, but they giddily grin up at him. He’s not going to grace the way they look at him with any sort of description. He just—ignores it, and keeps his focus on the king.

“Just one second,” Asgore calls out.

There’s tension in the air—it’s radiating from the kid and...somewhere else. He could make a pretty good guess as to where, exactly, but it’s not really something he’s too concerned about. He just stares ahead, and he sighs.

When Asgore turns to him, his smile shifts with surprise but it doesn’t falter even a little.

“Oh, Sans,” he says and Sans grins up at him. Asgore’s own widens. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Do you want some tea, perhaps? Or perhaps a nap in the garden?”

“A nap sounds pretty stellar, honestly,” Sans replies. Asgore chuckles at that, and Chara peers over at him. Their fingers dig into his sleeve, grip tightening in a way that’s probably significant. He could care less about that, especially when Asgore finally, finally notices the kid. His old, adopted kid.

Asgore looks as though he’s seeing something truly strange and foreign. His smile falls, for but a moment, and it quickly returns.

“Well, howdy! Are you a friend of Sans? He’s...never brought anyone with him before. Not even his brother. Er...” Politely, he turns back to Sans, imploring, “Sans, care to explain? This isn’t a relative of yours, correct? I’m afraid I—cannot tell what kind of monster they’re supposed to be.”

Chara pulls away from him.

“Interesting,” Sans murmured.

Asgore perks up, confused. “Pardon? I’m afraid I do not understand, Sans.”

“Well,” he says. “It uh, doesn’t really matter... I’m...not the one you should worry about right now.”

_His majesty’s_ **SOUL** _is one that aches for every monster._

“Has something happened?” Asgore asks him before turning to the kid, brow creased in concern. “What is the problem? Your expression is...quite troubling...” And yet, somehow, that comforting smile returns, as he suggests, “Whatever it is you need, why don’t we discuss it over a nice cup of tea?”

Chara stares up at him, but it’s as though their eyes pierce right through him. King Asgore is either unaffected or unaware. He keeps on talking.

“I will see with everything in my power what I can do for...”

_And yet, with his strength, he will be the one to_ **SAVE** _us._

It goes by in a blink. Asgore chokes, coughing out that last would-be word, and Chara’s knife is neatly buried into his gut to its very hilt. If not for the kid’s grip on it, it’d be difficult to notice with how it blends with his armor.

“Wh... _Why_...?”

Sans blinks, and the king has already crumbled to his knees, gasping and staring uncomprehendingly up at the kid.

_He’ll_ **SAVE** _everyone—and_ **DESTROY** _every human._

“See, Sans?” Chara asks, cheerfully as ever as they turn to him with that beaming smile. “See how _easy_ it is?”

He feels the slightest flicker of his magic—but whether it was due to exhaustion or dispiritedness, it fizzled out almost immediately. Dully, he just looks past the kid at the king’s increasingly wide-eyed, horrified expression.

“S... _Sans_...” Asgore reaches out for him, pleading. For help? For an explanation? Or maybe Asgore wanted him to run while he had a chance. It’s too bad Sans didn’t have the energy for any of those things. Not now—not anymore—maybe never, now.

_Our king,_ **KING ASGORE** _is **OUR** —_

Asgore’s large paw is trembling. Again, he pleads, “ ** _Sans_**...!”

It’d be easy to remember that warm paw on his shoulder. How despite its size, there hadn’t been any weight behind it. It’d be easy to remember the two of them, talking over tea and flowers in a light and easy atmosphere, ignoring the very real, near tangible heaviness permeating everything in New Home. It’d be easy to remember.

But those memories feel as distant as everything else—they’re probably with the evacuated monsters that sense the fall of their _hopes and dreams_ of freedom. Somewhere out in Hotland.

It’s cold here. He can’t feel any of this place’s warmth at all.

It hardly takes any time at all for Chara to finish Asgore off.

* * *

“Sans, might I have a moment of your time?”

“I’ve got more than enough of _that_ to spare.”

“...Might I ask for your advice?”

“Uh,” Sans’s easy grin strains. “That’s—kind of the point of my job, isn’t it? And, well, also part of being pals.”

“You would call us friends?” Asgore asks, with genuine surprise that has Sans go still.

_Uh._

And yet, it’s painfully easy for him to fake offense, putting a hand to his sternum as he stares up at the king with abject horror and hurt. “ _You_ wouldn’t?”

He’s still grinning wide, but Asgore flinches back so though there were tears in those dry, empty sockets.

“G-Goodness, I did not mean—!” It’s admittedly hilarious how the king flounders, trying desperately to fix his words with fumbling ones.

“Aw, chill.” Sans can’t help but chuckle into his hand, waving it all off. “I know what you meant, King Fluffyboy.”

Flustered, but forcing a smile nonetheless, Asgore tries to laugh it off himself. The attempt is admirable—but he’s not exactly a natural.

That’s fine. That’s endearing. It’s almost a light-hearted moment.

And it passes, as Asgore falters, shoulders slumping, and he lets out a heavy, weighty sigh.

“Sans... Sometimes... It is very difficult.”

Sans blinks up at him. His grip didn’t drop and wouldn’t have dropped if it could.

“I would never rescind my responsibility and duty—but it is very difficult. Is it wrong of me to acknowledge that? Is it wrong of me to be affected by it?”

“It’s not a matter of right or wrong,” Sans says, shuffling his hands into his pocket. “It just _is_ , y’know?”

“That is true,” Asgore admits. “But I still...”

“You feel guilty,” Sans says, averting his stare contemplatively. “That’s what it is.”

Asgore nods, feebly.

“Welp,” Sans exhales. “We all have to make difficult choices—and we’re all going to have difficulties we feel guilt over. And some are definitely more so than others, but—I’m not going to hold that over you. I uh, literally couldn’t.” He laughs, a little, but Asgore doesn’t. Of course not. “It really wouldn’t mean that much if I did. Because everyone else—everyone... They could care less about the radical opinions of a small fry like me, y’know? It’s _your_ word that everyone believes in. You’re the guy that everyone looks _up_ to, your highness.”

“I know,” Asgore says, so softly it was but a low rumble. “I would never forget that.”

Sans grins up at him. Despite himself, despite everything, Asgore returns it with a small smile.

And, if it could, Sans’s smile would have dropped completely.

“Uh, look,” he chokes out a laugh that even he couldn’t pretend to believe. “I’m...not the best guy when it comes to talking out feelings. Maybe that old turtle knows a thing or two? Just don’t let him talk your ear off—or something. Sorry. I’m, uh, _really_ sorry I can’t be of more help in this regard.”

“Oh, Sans,” Asgore says, perking up and widening his smile so easily it’s enviable. He pats his shoulder, adding, graciously, “You are more help than you acknowledge. I very deeply appreciate that.”

“Heh...” He beams back, as widely and brightly as he can manage. “If you say so.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Asgore kindly suggests. “Perhaps this is a good time to relax? Shall I make tea? Or would you like to rest in the garden?”

“I’m feeling the garden,” Sans says. “It might be better just in case anything _crops_ up unexpectedly.”

Asgore’s smile initially falters a bit—but Sans keeps on grinning, so Asgore just laughs.

“I doubt that, but if that is what you wish...”

Asgore touches his shoulder. But this time, he hesitates so the contact is much more tentative and brief. That’s just fine. Sans goes without a problem all the same.

* * *

Asgore could and would talk for days about golden flowers from their resilience to their delicacy. These flowers, he used to say, symbolized hope for the brighter future and perseverance in the present. That’s how he looked at it, and with his gaze on the flowers themselves holding so much warmth and melancholy, Sans didn’t doubt those sentiments, per say.

But, when he’d look at those pictures of the two kids, when he’d trace over the words of monsters’ history—when he’d look at the two kids themselves now, he can’t help but remember a theory that golden flowers had the capacity to represent destruction as much as rebirth. Everything could crumble to dust and pieces, but these flowers could thrive nonetheless.

They were beautiful though. Even with the amount of dust in the air, sprinkling the petals themselves, it was as if the flowers were shimmering. Maybe that was a trick of the light, or maybe it was...something else entirely. He found he didn’t like pondering it too deeply.

He just wanted to rest, really. The flowerbed was more comfortable than the mattress back home, and even the dust isn’t too bad. It’s like being in the basement, but with completely different surroundings in almost every regard. So it wasn’t like that at all. But he thought of it nonetheless.

It’s hard to tell where his thoughts were even going. It felt like everywhere and nowhere in particular—maybe that was just because he just didn’t feel anything. Maybe his mind was just looking for something, anything to latch onto. Maybe. Maybe.

God, he’s just so tired.

And the kids are still _chattering_.

“So he really gave in, huh,” Flowey says, low and thoughtful. “And after all that, the first thing he does is lay face down in the king’s garden to nap.”

Technically the first thing he did was spread some of the dust around. Not much, and only a little over a handful, but he had done it. Chara had kept on watching him intensely with that wide, dimpled grin, but they hadn’t said a word about it then and they weren’t saying anything now.

“It’s perfectly fine if he rests,” Chara chirps. “Considering the timeline we have ahead of us, I’d prefer him to get properly rested up! Resetting will just mentally exhaust him further, even if his magic is replenished. When do you think was the last time Sans even got proper rest?”

“Huh? I don’t...know...” Flowey trails off in a way that can almost be called anxious. “I _wouldn’t_ know.”

Chara hums meditatively.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” they said.

“Uh...!” Flowey flinched and quickly carried on, forcing a smile. “So...! Next run’s going to have Sans joining us, huh? I can’t believe it! You really succeeded! Not that—I never doubted you, of course! S-So what’s going to happen? What are we going to have him do?”

“Who knows?” Chara asks. “It’s one thing to stand idly by as someone dies, but it’s another to deliver the killing blow yourself. There only needed to be one hit to shatter Asgore’s SOUL but... Sans didn’t move at all when I asked him to... He still needs work...”

“Of course he does...” Flowey grumbles. “Troublesome as always.”

“But, look! He’s here, isn’t he? That already says so much!”

“...Do you really feel that way, Chara?”

“Of course!” Chara chirped matter-of-factly. “If he really truly didn’t _want_ to be here, in this situation—it wouldn’t have been that hard to pull his own SOUL out and crush it in his grip, would it? Wouldn’t that be so much easier, physically _and_ emotionally?”

Flowey laughs.

It’s bright as it is forced.

“I guess that’s true!”

There’s desperation tinging the lie.

Chara doesn’t notice.

“Well, that’s that, isn’t it? Sorry, Asriel, you’re going to have to be patient for a little while longer,” they sigh. “But I’m excited! I really am!”

“I...believe you...” Flowey’s trailing off. There’s still that desperation, but the words themselves are too delicate to be anything but sincere. Whatever this moment is, it quickly passes as Flowey once again forces his usual, saccharine cheer, “Well! I’ll be waiting some more, then! That’s fine! I don’t mind! See you around next timeline, Chara!”

“Bye, Asriel.”

There was a pause after Flowey left.

Sans’s eye sockets flickered open as he heard their approaching footsteps. Drearily, he glanced up at the kid. They were, unsurprisingly, smiling down at him.

“Are you sure that’s comfy?” they ask cheerfully, lowering to sit down nearby. “My offer from earlier still _stands_ —well, you know what I mean, right?”

“I’m...fine where I am, thanks,” he says, exhaling as he does before muttering into the dirt, “Not sure what your weird desire about getting me to lay my skull on your lap is supposed to imply—but I’m definitely uninterested regardless. It’s probably uncomfortable, anyway.”

“Fair enough,” they reply with a laugh. “But, let me know if the sentiment changes. We’ve all the time in the world, remember?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to that. He just stares at them, cold and unreadable.

Chara’s as unaffected as they were before, idly twirling a flower’s stem around their finger. There’s no dust on their particular flower. Apparently, the kid’s not that rude.

They’re pulling out flowers that don’t have any dust from the roots. They’re arranging the flowers into a bouquet. There’s unspeakable delicacy to the way they thread together stems and leaves.

It’s...something else.

_But it’s not anything **significant** , is it?_

Sans sighed, and rolled onto his back. Chara perks up, but he doesn’t pay any attention to that. He just—emptily stares at the ceiling of the throne room, how it’s so high up that there’s darkness obscuring it. If he squints, he might be able to make out something, but...

There’s a flower being twirled over him. Despite everything, his eye-lights catch onto the movement, following the flower even as it’s swept from side to side.

Chara giggles. They pull the flower back out of his sight, probably tucking it in with the rest to put them all aside.

Dust-caked fingers stroke his cheek, trailing down along his jaw before curling underneath his chin. If he looked, he’d probably see their arm and sleeve. If they leaned over him, they’d probably look upside down. Their thumb strokes over the tense corner of his grin.

He doesn’t have the energy to swat them away. Instead, he just shuts his eye sockets tight.

It’s undoubtedly an affectionate gesture. He doesn’t want to think about that. He definitely doesn’t want to consider it.

“Oh Sans,” they say. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’ll be a lot of fun with the two of us. It’ll be better than before. You’ll understand. You’ll be a great partner. I know it. We’re not alone anymore, are we?”

Maybe, just maybe, he squeezes his eye sockets tighter shut.

**“ _We’ll be together_ forever _, won’t we_?”**

There’s desperation tinging the plea.

 

 


	13. Side: Lemon Chiffon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is sweet. LOVE is tart.
> 
> Flowey and Papyrus talk about a few things after certain events in that particular timeline leave Papyrus a bit shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between Chapters 10 and 11 so maybe I should rearrange these chapters?? Eh, maybe later.
> 
> As previously stated, this is more of a "short" side story than an actual chapter. I don't know how many of these there will be. I have a couple ideas, but they might be a bit weird. We shall see.
> 
> I wrote this because I sadly won't have a lot of opportunities to detail Papyrus and Flowey's relationship in the main story, so I really hope this suffices for now. Hopefully, it'll also provide some insight on these poor sidelined siblings?
> 
> Mind the tags, please. Some of them are there because of this side story.

It was nothing more than impulse. He’d always acted more on impulse than anything else because, hey—what did it matter? He could just do and undo whatever he wanted—and golly, he could’ve exhausted the list of possibilities easily if he so wanted! At least, he could at first.

But he got bored quickly. And, just when he realized he let the timeline go on for much longer than usual, a human fell down. Again.

But, that was okay! It wasn’t just any ol’ human—it was _his_ human! It was Chara, _his best friend_!

It really felt like a dream—like any moment Flowey would just wake up again alone in the garden. But timeline after timeline after timeline after timelines upon _timelines_ passed and, well—it was settled. He’d never wake up alone there ever again.

Wasn’t that great? Wasn’t that nice? Gosh, he had been so sick of that place. But, then again, all of the Underground sickened him after a while. And he was still here.

But that wasn’t so bad. Chara was here too, after all. And Chara was making things interesting again.

**_...But._ **

_The way they were going about it_...focused on that **_smiley trash bag_** , of _all_ people—!

Well, Chara’s interests could always be...questionable. They were like that before, too. Even if it was with some _one_ —something like this... That Chara could still be so _incomprehensible_ was...a relief. A curious relief that he couldn’t help but _want_ to see play out.

But gosh, he really, really should have taken into consideration just how frustrating the wait would be. Because it was _Sans_ —the aggravating, incomprehensibly **_frustrating_** trash bag of bones that just loved to _drag his feet_ through the inevitable, to everyone’s annoyance.

But, Flowey could be patient. Chara was impressively, impressively patient. And so he waited. He waited on this 1HP basket case to stop dragging his feet for _timelines_.

Unsurprisingly, it was still _really_ frustrating but he trusted Chara— _he **relied** on Chara_—so he didn’t complain too much. If nothing else, he never got bored of Chara. It could’ve been like the old days, but he knew that’s just a worthless longing and would only leave him feeling emptier than before.

He _was_ getting bored though.

Not a lot had been happening lately and it’s not like he had much of anything to do, either.

It didn’t matter if he was here or not—and maybe, just maybe Chara was in a mood where they wanted to be alone anyway, and in that case—that was just fine! He’s still going to have to check up on them later, of course, but for the moment...

It was just an impulse. It would always be just an impulse.

There were many timelines in which he couldn’t find Sans, as annoying as that was. Papyrus would always say the same thing—that he was in Hotland or something, and well, if he was, that just wasn’t worth the effort of searching thoroughly. Hotland was the worst and had always been the worst. Bad for fur, bad for leaves—why did that awful place even _exist_?!

At least Papyrus shared his disgust. Another reason Papyrus was clearly the better brother—but, what _ever_ , again, Chara’s always had strange tastes _anyway_ , so he just won’t bother questioning that anymore. He won’t. Not at all.

It’s  for the best anyway. If Chara wanted Sans so badly, they could have him. One less major source of aggravation and frustration—and a slew of possibilities for how monsters  could act with one block yanked out from their precarious little tower.

So many possibilities, especially for Papyrus.

And, well, it’d been a while since Flowey talked to his favorite. His best friend wasn’t doing a lot of talking—he would say they were being moody if he didn’t know better—and well, it didn’t matter what he did as long as he was out of Chara’s way.

It wasn’t like he was going to kill Papyrus. He just wanted to talk. He just wanted to pass the time because stars know he has more than enough of that even now with Chara at the mantle.

And, maybe, with Papyrus he just wanted to...

“...to know what’s wrong!!”

Flowey paused at that familiar echoing voice. At the repetition, the insistence, that—

“I just want to know what’s wrong...!”

He popped back into the ground, in and out, catching different bits as he did.

“I know you never tell anyone anything, but...”

_Hmm._

“You can tell me anything, Sans! You—you _know_ that, don’t you? No...”

_Hmm._

“I... I’m not a baby bones anymore, brother! I can—I can _help_ you—if you just...let me...”

Well, wasn’t this _interesting_?

“No, no... That won’t do...”

It’s not very often Papyrus sounds this uncertain.

“As the physically bigger brother, I _DEMAND_ you—no! **_NO_**! That most CERTAINLY won’t do—!!”

_And, well..._

When Flowey popped up, hidden by the bushes to closely observe, taking in Papyrus’s pacing, taking in Papyrus’s tightly crossed arms and the way he looked down with such a distressed expression.

Papyrus stopped, straightening up, and wrenched his arms down so that they’d be rigidly at his sides as he exclaimed, “I won’t be talked out of getting an answer this time!!”

For a second, Papyrus looked fierce, even if he faltered back into that soft dope almost immediately. But even that was interesting because Papyrus wrapped his arms around himself, bones rattling and—!

Papyrus...

...Papyrus looked _frightened_.

It had only been an impulse. There was no possible way Flowey could have ignored _that_.

“Papyrus!” he chirps, popping up out of the ground before Papyrus, inwardly delighting at how Papyrus jumped, how shaken he really was—and how he immediately relaxed at realizing it was just lil ol’ Flowey. Flowey, with his sweet, sunny smile and soft, worried coo, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh... It’s you...” Papyrus said, straightening up, moving his hands to his hips. “What are you doing way out here?”

“I was just, you know, strolling around, and I just _happened_ to see you,” Flowey said easily, because it wasn’t like it was a lie or anything. But his tone did sharpen, just a little, just because he was a little annoyed even if it’s not entirely this idiot’s fault. “You didn’t answer my question, friend. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I’m PERFECTLY fine! Greatly fine, in fact! But I’m grateful for your concern all the same!” Papyrus exclaimed, puffing out his chest this time, grin widening. “I was just—ruminating! GREATLY ruminating!”

“About...?” Flowey implored with innocently-toned curiosity. Papyrus rattled for just a moment.

“Oh, you know...! Typical Papyrus stuff! Puzzles! Purpose! Papyrus!” Papyrus rambled on, voice rising higher and higher. “Greatly IMPORTANT Papyrus stuff! Nye _HEH_!”

“Including your brother, right?” Flowey asked with a bright laugh. “Papyrus, you really don’t have to hide it when you’re worried about Sans!”

And he really, really meant it. That worry would always, always, _always_ be painfully, **_painfully_** obvious. _Especially_ on someone like Papyrus.

Even now, Papyrus’s open jaw audibly clicked shut. He almost went completely still, and there was nothing but glaringly readable emotion in those lop-sided sockets.

Flowey blinked once, not surprised but just a little, just a little taken aback.

“Papyrus? _Friend_?”

“Sans... _He’s_...” Papyrus’s teeth grit, but that smile came rushing back, almost like it’d been anxious to return. “You know how Sans is, Flowery.”

“It’s _Flowey_ ,” he corrected, quick without missing a beat.

“Flowey,” Papyrus repeated with a simple nod. “Apologies! As I was saying... Sans is Sans! There’s _nothing_ you need to worry about! Aside from the usual and obvious, of course!”

_Right, because he’s just so **feeble**._ Flowey couldn’t help but roll his eyes hard. _Of course he’ll still bring that up—but. There’s definitely more to it. Did Sans do something?_

A smile almost curled on his face, but he forced it down and kept up that deep, worried frown.

“Are you sure? There’s really nothing to worry about?” Narrowing his eyes, Flowey added meaningfully, “Not about _Sans_?”

“No, no! Nothing at all!” Papyrus insisted, but he flinched at his brother’s name. And Flowey can barely keep himself from immediately _pouncing_ on that.

“That doesn’t look like nothing, friend,” he cooed. “Come on, what’s _wrong_? What **_happened_**?”

“I-It really is nothing...!” Papyrus’s voice was rising, but so was an underlying hysteria to his tone. “Nothing to _worry_ about, Flowey!!”

“Now, now, Papyrus,” Flowey tutted, giving him a sweet yet stern look copied straight from her. “It’s really rude to lie to your friend like that.”

Papyrus’s smile dropped, and Flowey pictured it shattering into pieces across the floor. Flowey smiled brightly up at him, openly and invitingly.

Papyrus was quiet, but Flowey was patient. And said patience finally paid off when Papyrus murmured, in an almost inaudible whisper, “It’s not like I mean to—I don’t _mean_ to...!”

Papyrus sighed heavily, shoulders slumping and Flowey’s eyes widen when he takes in something that could only be complete and utter _fatigue_. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of seeing _Papyrus_ like that! Not once!

It was—something _else_.

“I don’t understand how things got like this,” Papyrus groaned, rubbing at his skull like it hurt. “Everything’s just so, so—so **taxing**! And of course I, _Papyrus_ , SHOULD be able to handle it, BUT—! Ugh... Ughhh... I’m sorry, Flowey. Upsetting you was what I precisely wanted to avoid, being your friend and all! But I...” Quieting a bit, and avoiding Flowey’s eyes, Papyrus was almost mumbling, “I can’t go too much into it, especially when I don’t really understand everything myself. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea...”

“O-Oh! Oh, that’s okay!” Flowey was quick to pacify, quick to please. “Golly! You’re usually so assured that I’m...really taken aback by all this!”

Papyrus sighed again.

“But! I just think that makes you cooler!” Flowey exclaimed, barely missing a beat. “After all, to admit you’re out of your element—that’s mighty mature of you! You really are so cool, Papyrus!”

And it’s just that easy to get Papyrus smiling at him again, sheepishly and rubbing at the back of his skull with flattered giggles. Flowey almost wanted to sneer—but this wasn’t going to be one of those runs.

~~Chara wouldn’t approve—~~

No, he was way too curious. He had to play it safe. He had to be as pleasantly coaxing as possible.

“Sans is involved though, isn’t he?” Flowey gave a sympathetic smile, keeping his tone light and comforting. “You’re always so worried about him that I can’t help but think this is part of what’s got you all rattled, friend.”

“Nyeh... I don’t think I could hide, even with as great as I am...” Papyrus says, and his smile did stiffen a little, but it was minor. “Sans is...insufferably worrying, as you know.”

_He’s also just plain insufferable._ But Flowey swallowed his scowl and just nodded understandingly.

“He’s also pretty secretive too, right?” Flowey asked, careful and curious. “There are things he doesn’t even tell _you_.”

Papyrus huffed and crossed his arms tightly in annoyance with a nod of affirmation. Flowey’s smile twitched, almost going a little too wide before he pulled back.

“Y’know, friend, I can’t help but find that a little unfair.”

“Unfair?” Papyrus echoed, perking up. Flowey nodded.

“All you’re doing is sensibly worrying about him, and he still shuts you out. He skirts the topic, and he won’t tell you everything even though the two of you are _family_!” Flowey almost shouted, “Family shouldn’t lie or keep things from family! It’s almost like he doesn’t even trust you!”

Papyrus flinched, and of course, Flowey went on,

Don’t you find that...” _Hilarious._ “... _frustrating_?”

“It _is_ frustrating,” Papyrus agreed, grimacing and looking more than a little bothered. Admirably, annoying, he went right back to smiling. “But it’s just how Sans is. He’s _secretive_!”

“And you’re alright with that?” Flowey asked with wide eyes before they sharply narrow. “ _Really_?”

“Nyeheh, I’m ALWAYS alright!” The forced assurance was a rather sad parody of the usual gusto. Papyrus still had his arms crossed, even with his chest puffed out again. “So there is, like I said, NOTHING to worry about at all, my friend!”

“...Really,” Flowey repeated doubtfully, giving him a look. Papyrus only wavered a little, but he also visibly relaxed when Flowey gave him a warm grin.

“What did I **_just say_** ,” Flowey said, each word short and cheerfully curt, “about _lying to your friend_ , Papyrus?”

“I just meant...!”

“It’s not your fault,” Flowey interrupted him, smile saccharine. “Considering how Sans is—it can’t be helped how you are. Sans really should’ve done a better job, huh?”

Papyrus’s jaw clinked shut, and then his arms tightened around himself.

“Don’t blame Sans,” he said, surprisingly firm. “My choices are _not_ his fault.”

“Oh, _golly_ ,” Flowey gives a nervous-sounding laugh, waving him off. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What _I_ meant earlier is that you don’t need to worry.” Papyrus was the one cutting in this time. “B-Because! It’s not like the situation is—anything other than what could probably be expected! I didn’t want to concern you, Flowey—!”

“Okay.”

Fine. He’ll bite.

“It’s just...” Flowey let the words hang, keeping his smile sad and innocent. “You’re just so _unexpectedly_ tired. Like you’ve used up a _lot_ of magic recently. There are shadows under your eye sockets, Papyrus. You _look_ worrying.”

It was hilarious how Papyrus’s cool, assertive front immediately fizzled at that. It was hilarious how ashamed he looked like Flowey caught him in the middle of a sad, sad _lie_. Papyrus dropped his gaze, eye sockets on the ground as he got all closed off and reserved.

_Hilarious._

“I’m sorry,” Papyrus was almost mumbling. “I... I really don’t have anything to say...or to explain...”

“Is that because you don’t really understand either?” Flowey offered sweetly. “But if Sans is involved—did he do something?”

“I’m not answering that,” Papyrus replied with an unexpected flicker of stubbornness. “It’s—personal, Flowey. Please understand that.”

“Friend, I just...”

“It’s **_personal_** ,” Papyrus repeated, low and hard. “ _Please understand_.”

Flowey could only nod understandingly. Inwardly, he seethed.

_Well,_ he thought. _I could always harass that trash bag about it._

“Did Sans at least talk to you about the situation?” He switched tactics. “Or are you left to try and piece everything together on your own?”

Papyrus’s slump spoke volumes. And the way Papyrus _sighed_!

“It’s not like the situation is anything other than what can be expected,” he restated. “Sans is just—Sans, as I’ve said. I wouldn’t expect any different.”

And Papyrus still sounded so _down_ and so full of _dismay_.

“I can’t help but find that unfair,” Flowey said again. “As I’ve said, he’s your _family_ right? And he’s keeping secrets that put such a strain on the _both_ of you—it’s so irresponsible! What kind of brother _does_ that?”

With a vine, he comfortingly patted Papyrus’s arm. His smile was as sympathetic as it was wide. Papyrus still looks so tired—he actually flinched before that comforting touch. How _interesting_.

“You’re not _really_ alright with that, are you, Papyrus?” he asked  kindly. “I’ll understand. After all we’re friends, and friends shouldn’t _keep things from each other_ , right?”

“Not...right.” Papyrus wasn’t looking at him, and the words were stiff, almost unsettling. “No, uh... Sorry, Flowey, that’s not right.”

Flowey’s vine slithered back, and his smile dropped for just a moment. Somehow, his tone remained light as he curiously asked, “What do you mean?”

“I-I mean... I... Is keeping things from your friends really so wrong?” Papyrus still wouldn’t look at him. But his features scrunched up as he went on, “I can’t help but think if—if I _demanded_ someone to tell me everything about themselves just because _we’re friends_... That person might not be too happy about that? They might, in fact, be very unhappy with that and not want to be my friend anymore??”

“Oh!” Flowey perked up. “Oh, well, Papyrus, _that’s_...!”

_...Huh?_

He stopped, not sure how to continue. “That’s... Uh...”

“That’d definitely be the case with Sans, I think,” Papyrus said, gripping his hands and squeezing them tight. “Even though we’re family and we look out for one another... If I expected—no, _demanded_ him to just immediately tell me everything going on with him, disregarding how difficult it’d be on him to relay certain things, don’t you think he’d grow to resent me?”

Flowey just stared back.

_“There’s...a legend revolving around Mt. Ebott on the surface. Those who climb the mountain never return. Supposedly, they’re eaten by monsters. Or maybe they just disappear?”_

_“Chara, did you want to...?”_

_“It’s late, Asriel. Go to sleep.”_

Flowey hesitated. “I...”

_“Asriel...”_

_Their voice was quiet. They weren’t looking at him. It was like they couldn’t bear to. They were shaking. Their fists were clenched so tight that it looked painful._

_“Just... **drop it**...okay?”_

“He...probably would.”

The admittance was as quiet as it was damning. But of course Papyrus picked up on it and nodded firmly along.

“And those feelings would be understandable! Of course there are things that Sans needs to tell me if he wants my help—but to force said help on him would...make him uncomfortable! And it might not help at all—in fact, it WON’T help at all if I’m too careless!!” Papyrus crossed his arms tighter, seeming more confident and assured as he huffed. “ _THAT_ won’t do! The Great Papyrus must be _GREATLY_ careful where Sans is involved! He’s too delicate for anything less!”

_He really has made you weak._

Flowey’s frown twitched.

_That really pisses me off._

“Even when that guy carelessly avoids the subject or lies to your face?” he couldn’t help but ask, bitterness seeping into the tone before he quickly and irritably reeled it back. “I really find that unfair.”

“Well, sometimes, Sans will lie or omit things because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” Papyrus pointed out like it was just that simple. “I don’t like it either—but I understand why Sans acts that way. Besides, if he’s able to work things out on his own, I don’t _need_ to pry... I think...”

**_I don’t understand._ **

_“Asriel,” Chara said, a finger to their lips. Their gaze was wide and piercing. “Keep this a secret, okay?”_

**_I really_ don’t _understand._**

“Flowey, have you ever known someone like Sans?” Papyrus asked him suddenly and inquiringly. There was some strain in his smile—Flowey almost trembled with thinly-veiled disdain. And yet, as though without noticing, Papyrus went on. “Someone who—isn’t completely honest with you, although you dearly wish them to be... Someone who you’d assist in any way possible if they’d only just ask... But also someone who you know, on some level, is likely to never do so. Instead they pretend everything’s fine and okay, with a certain kind of smile and laugh...”

_“Don’t worry about it, Asriel.”_

_“...Asriel. You understand the kind of person I am now, right?”_

_“You’re the one I rely the most on. I’d hate to hurt you when I don’t have to.”_

Flowey didn’t answer.

“And despite all that...” Papyrus trailed off, wistfully almost. “You can’t do anything but try to believe in them and hope...”

_“You’d never doubt me, right, Asriel?”_

_“No, no, never! Never again!”_

**_Never again..._** The words resounded, over and over. _Never again, never again, never again—nevernever **never** —!_

**_I just don’t understand—!_ **

“Do you understand what I mean, Flowey?”

“I...!” Flowey flinched, shuddered, and quickly forced a grin up at Papyrus. “I... I... S-Sorry, what was the question?”

Papyrus blinked back at him in confusion, but his smile was gentler, smaller, and he repeated, “I asked if you understood.”

“I got that...” Flowey laughed, slowly and tensely. “I just meant... N-Never mind...” He quickly averted his eyes. “You asked if I’d ever known someone like Sans, before, right?”

_Sans... That guy..._

Wasn’t he _worthless_? Wasn’t he the _worst_? To think someone like that could be _such_ a pain was—golly, it was just unbelievable! The things Flowey would _do_ to him if that garbage bag of bones would just sit _still_ —!

He would if he could. _Chara_ could.

Chara could kill him, kill everyone and just—leave this boring, miserably hopeless place—but they were sticking around. For _him_. Flowey didn’t understand it at all.

He just _couldn’t_ understand.

And gosh, wasn’t ** _that_** so much more infuriating that _all_ the complied frustration Sans brought about on his own?

It wasn’t enough that he always told those stupid jokes. It wasn’t enough that he always wore that stupid, stupid smile that was aggravatingly hard to read. It wasn’t enough he had to be a blemish on the one idiot in the underground who could still be interesting from time to time.

“Well...” Flowey says, flicking a bit of snow as he does. “I can’t say I’d know what it’d be like to have someone like him as a brother... I imagine it’s maddening.”

“Oh, it is,” Papyrus agreed with a nod. “No doubt about that.”

_But you still care about him. You’ll still look out for him. You’ll protect him. Right?_ Flowey wanted so badly to sneer as nastily as he could. It’s impressive that he didn’t. **_Right?_** _God, how sad for you to love someone like that._

“I guess it can’t be helped,” he said instead, cheerfully even as it felt like the words themselves were making his insides rot. “But I’m sorry—I don’t think I understand. I can’t make sense of it. I don’t think Sans is a bad person—but he still seems like a bad brother.”

Papyrus’s jaw tightened. He shook his head, huffing and rattling.

“Sans, he...” Tightening his grips on his arms, hard enough to bruise the bone, his tone was rigidly fixed. “He’s _not_ a bad brother.”

Flowey wondered about that.

_Would you really say that so staunchly if you knew everything about him? Would your faith remain unwavering, even when you see the way he manipulates?_

_...What kind of good brother does nothing as you die time and time again? I’ve cracked every single one of your bones and he didn’t even_ try _to save you._

_Oh, but he bandaged you up afterwards with that pitiful grin._

_So maybe he’s not all bad. Maybe he’s good deep inside._

_No **wonder** you insist goodness must be somewhere in everyone. If I could, I’d feel so sorry for you._

“Ah, pardon me,” Flowey laughed apologetically. “I was just being honest, friend. I didn’t mean anything cruel. I... Please don’t look at me like that.”

Papyrus’s look worsened, but ultimately, he just asked.

“Do you really not understand it at all?”

_He had bandaged Chara’s arms once upon a time. So many questions bubbled to his lips. Questions like—_ **why** _, or—_ how **long** _? Chara wouldn’t meet his pleading, tearful eyes at first. They just chided him for being a crybaby. If he sniffled, they only got more irritated._

_But after a while, finally, they turned in his direction with this smile that didn’t reach their shadowy eyes._

_“You wouldn’t_ understand _, Asriel—”_

It’s a flickering memory already dotted with darkness that he shoves away **_hard_**.

“Hehe, sorry,” Flowey said, a little more meekly. “I don’t. I don’t understand at all.”

Papyrus averted his gaze, instead looking off at nothing in particular. The way he carried himself suggested nothing more than fatigue and near collapse. Just what had happened? What had Sans _done_?

Flowey would kill to know. He felt a pull at the corner of his smile. He opened his mouth to say something else—

But everything in his mind went completely blank when Papyrus spoke up, tone flat.

“It’s rude to lie to your friend like that, Flowey.”

“...Huh?”

* * *

As per usual, New Home seemed so much bigger when it was all empty. The buildings looked grayer, the cracks more apparent, and it was as unremarkable sight now as it always was. He’d watch monsters evacuate for all the different emotions flickering across their otherwise entirely terrified expressions. Some would be sobbing, some would be swearing, some would be doing their damnedest to reassure others that it’d all be _fine_ because _King Asgore_ would **SAVE** them.

It was too pathetic for him even to laugh at. He’d scoff, of course, but aside from rolling his eyes, that was all there was to it.

It didn’t even matter. He didn’t really care.

They were just a bunch of insignificant strangers—indistinct faces in the crowd. There was even less a reason to feel anything than usual.

But... _despite everything_... The emptiness of New Home remained...unnerving even now.

Maybe that was why he was so eager to chat Chara up when they walked through. Sure, they weren’t all that responsive, and sure, he was just talking to hear himself talk, but it was still comforting in a way. It was almost like old times—with his old self and Chara’s warm smile.

Flowey knew there were more differences there besides the obvious. He decidedly didn’t like thinking too much about it. It was already pitifully idiotic—and he _hated_ that.

He was already trying to distract himself from such things.

Like how he just ran away when Papyrus echoed his _ridiculous_ question.

He fled, like an inane coward, just because of that.

Oh, he stuck around to watch Papyrus from a distance—up until he returned home and started moping even more than usual because his garbage brother, of course, ditched him to...disappear off and do whatever nothing he did during these timelines. ~~~~

~~So many timelines, and Flowey still knows little to nothing about Sans.~~

~~So many timelines, and that tidbit still _annoys_ him.~~

But Papyrus—he got to see Papyrus break down and start _crying_. The rattling was loud enough to be heard throughout all of Snowdin, but...the sobbing itself was muted in comparison. With how Papyrus had his skull buried into his hands, the tears were hard to see. But they were there, make no mistake.

Papyrus has cried before in front of him, grossly and stupidly, with big watery droplets welling up in his eye sockets. Obviously, this was different. _Very_ different. Very ** _interesting_** and—

It was hard not to remember Asriel crying over Chara, with all the vicious self-loathing and guilt that came with it. And that Flowey couldn’t feel anything was so _frustrating_ that the intrigue was ruined. So he was just angry.

Angry with himself, angry with Papyrus, and angry with _Sans_.

But not at Chara. Never with Chara.

At best, he was a little bitter because they would undo this. But, again, that was **_Sans’s_** fault, wasn’t it?

Of course it was.

But there was still something else.

_Because._

For a brief moment, it felt like his world stuttered just because _Papyrus_ threw his words back at him.  **_Papyrus, of_ all _people!_**

Well, Papyrus was his favorite for a reason.

And, part of him wondered, for once, if _this_ was what Chara saw in Sans—if _this_ was why they were so fixated on an otherwise unassuming guy. Maybe _that_ was the secret. Maybe Sans _said something_.

The other part wanted to eviscerate everything for that consideration being granted the slightest bit of acknowledgement.

So he left and just stopped thinking about it. Chara was going to be out of the ruins soon.

He should greet them before that, at least, because that’s what he usually does.

Might as well, right?

* * *

Chara was wiping the plastic knife off with that red scarf. For the most part, the dust got stuck in the fibers, but some particles were still smeared against the fake blade. That dull, utter dreariness on their features remained impenetrable and unreadable.

Except, for once, there was a shift in their expression, so slight that he wouldn’t have noticed had he been looking so closely.

“If I take this scarf—do you think Sans would say something?”

“Maybe,” Flowey replied, groaning out the word. Why the hell had he even held his breath? “Maybe not.”

He was irritated, of course, especially when the intensifying stare Chara was now giving the scarf. He wished holes just burned into the damn thing already, but... He also couldn’t help but annoyingly think about what happened before.

Because something was different—something about the way Papyrus died was different this time.

It was different—even accounting for the obvious differences in this timeline that’d affect the script. Like how Papyrus until the very end, kept looking around, kept fretting, kept trailing off and near rattling the entire time. It’d been obvious he was sick with worry, but he kept forcing himself onwards both admirably and idiotically.

Papyrus, as Flowey had learned, could perform by himself just fine, but he was always considerably less enthusiastic without Sans and considerably slower to get to the same conclusions. He still said the lines, and he still babbled the same heartfelt nothing about believing before. But, the way the words quivered this time—it hadn’t been as heartfelt as all those previous times.

In fact, he...his _heart_ had been elsewhere that time, hadn’t it?

**_“...Sans... I...”_ **

Chara had perked up at the mention of Sans’s name—but by that point, Papyrus had already disintegrated into dust.

It was like nothing new ever happened. Chara didn’t seem to linger on it at all.

Or, if they did, Flowey didn’t feel comfortable enough to implore.

But, still... Papyrus had been his favorite. Papyrus _was_ his favorite. Even now.

“Chara...”

“No,” Chara said, and sighed as they drop the scarf. It fluttered delicately onto the snow. “I’m not that desperate quite yet.”

_You aren’t that desperate?_ Flowey gritted his teeth.

“Asriel,” Chara went on. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Flowey immediately flinched, trembling. “U-Um...”

“If you have something to say,” Chara droned with a flicker of irritation. “Then _please_ say it.”

“I-It’s not anything important,” he stammered helplessly, forcing a laugh as he did. “I was just, um—curious about Papyrus...”

“Yeah?” Chara didn’t sound impressed.

“I-I...” Flowey hesitated. “I think something happened in this timeline between him and Sans.”

“Do you think Sans will want to talk about that?” Chara asked.

“Probably...not. But his mood’s probably going to be worse...if he can be bothered...” Flowey rolled his eyes with disdain. But Chara was still looking ahead with nothing short of...determination.

“We shall see, then.”

“Okay,” Flowey said, nodding. They just moved on ahead without another word. They just disappeared into the mist—and Flowey stayed behind.

Flowey looked towards the scarf, flapping just a little in the breeze. He shifted closer towards it.

He could tear it into tatters. It’d be mind-numbingly easy and he’d done it before. Whether in shreds or one piece, he’d always watched Sans just gather up the fabric without a word, and he hadn’t felt satisfied at all.

He hadn’t felt anything.

Of course not—it wasn’t like it _mattered_ , right?

And yet, Flowey couldn’t help but feel especially aggravated now.

That didn’t matter either—because Chara was going to reset regardless. And the next timeline will be the same as well as the ones after that and he’d just be dragged along unable to play with Papyrus or anyone else anymore. And Chara will—they’ll only focus their attention on Sans. Only _Sans_.

Gosh. How beyond infuriating.

But wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it. He wasn’t in control anymore.

Bitterly, Flowey couldn’t help but laugh, taking up a bit of the wayward dust mixed with the snow and sprinkling it over the scarf.

“I’ll see you later, friend. As always.”


End file.
